


Objectified Magic

by larissalee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Demon Deals, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, International Relations, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding World, human!objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 41,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissalee/pseuds/larissalee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam, and Cas stumble upon a dark ritual in the back woods of some podunk town in the South. Everything pointed to a demon, all of the murders and mysterious disappearances. In trying to excorsize the man in the middle of an unknown ritual, the boys will twist reality on its head. The American Council of Witches and Wizards will have no choice but to ask for assistance from the British Ministry of Magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leaves crunches under Dean's boot as he crept through the wooded area. He didn't like the silence one bit. You could almost taste trouble in the autumn air. His eyes slid to his left, catching sight of Sam as he too inched toward the target. 

They'd been studying this jackass for weeks now, and he'd finally made a move. The man had been inactive, no more missing people in his wake to really point out his whereabouts. Tonight, though, he'd been seen. That sweet waitress with the free slices of pie, thank you very much, had disappeared from work early without a word. It didn't take a Winchester to know that meant trouble. 

A twig snapped. Dean cringed, then glared at Cas. They were supposed to have fanned out, but Cas was close to Dean's right; he'd been acting overly protective for weeks now, and it was gonna get them killed if he kept it up. Hell, Dean would probably stab him himself if he thought Cas would stay away for more than five minutes. 

Rolling his eyes, Dean continued forward as the trees grew sparse. There was a clearing up ahead, and a small bonfire flickered between the branches. He could hear crying and whimpering; that definitely had to be the Pie Lady. Dammit, but he really hated this asshole! They had to figure out where she was being held, and just what this guy was up to. 

The man in question was holding a thin stick out, pointing it at a huddled mass next to the fire pit. A strange grow pulsed from the tip, rippling down to the quivering girl and seeping into her; the man himself seemed to glow in the dark. Muttering could be heard in the unnatural quiet of the surrounding forest. 

"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light hit the girl, and she jerked before going still. Too still. 

The man held out his stick again, his own hand palm up with something sitting on it. His eyes turned black as he started chanting. "Adsit exitium franget animos..." He drew out the words, the light pulsing with them. Shit was clearly about to hit the fan. Dean tried to think of a better plan than jumping out and yelling for the guy to stop. He had a sick feeling they were too late. 

And then Sam started shouting. "Hey! Put down the glowstick!" He cocked the Colt, the gun leveled directly at the man across from him. He edged around the bonfire slowly, knowing the others would circle to surround the guy. 

Dean held Ruby's knife carefully, complete on guard as he approached the scene from the other side. Fuck, they didn't even know what this guy was doing! He hated going in blind. 

The chanting didn't stop, the same line repeated over and over, and the light seemed to grow. The man shifted slowly, drawing the tip of his Glowstick of Death to his own chest. He groaned as if it hurt. Why would a demon hurt himself? A strange spark, almost like a flame, stuck to the tip of his stick as he pulled it away and touched it to whatever he was holding in his other hand. "Sit vas incolunt, in aeternum..." 

Sam's eyes flickered to Dean, and he tried to decide. Was this guy a demon? Everything pointed to some crazy demon shit, right? The eyes were a giveaway, right? Everyone in town swore that this guy was a local, a quiet nobody from the outskirts of Nowheresville. 

Not wanting to take any chances with killing an innocent, Dean nodded to Sam and tucked his knife away. This dillweed wasn't even paying them any attention; maybe he was too distracted to notice a little thing like an exorcism? 

As quietly as he could, Dean started to chant. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica-"

With a loud crack, a blast of light tore through the entire wooded area, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it in frustration. "Bloody hell!"

"Harry!" Hermione's reprimand made him wince, but her frown softened as she set a fresh cup of tea down in front of him. "I know it's frustrating, but surely you didn't expect immediate results? The American Council has been doing their own thing for over two centuries, we can't really expect them to just roll over and do as we say."

Harry huffed and released his hair, reaching for the tea instead. Hermione had obviously cooled it, as always; he'd probably have burned off all of his tastebuds with his impatience, if not for her. "I get it,I really do! But we defeated Voldemort! We saved the world! Would it hurt to hear out our proposals?"

The two sat in silence, each brooding in deep thought. Harry had been appointed as the lead Auror liaison to the Americas, and it was already a horrid mistake. His first goal had been a treaty for safe, protected portkey locations across the pond; after all, almost no one could handle the long distance apparation. It should've been an easy agreement to reach. However, nothing with the Americans was easy.

Hermione had her own headaches from the Ministry's efforts to develop better international connections. In the process of multiple failed meetings with delegates from the Americas, she'd discovered their closely guarded secret: they had developed an entirely separate and unique system of spells, abandoning classic Latin-esque spell words in favor of a more modern Spanish approach. The minute the representatives realized she'd noticed their secret, the entire delegation had run off with excuses that they'd meet another day. That was over a month ago!

Harry paused in his musings as he glanced at his watch. Half past six. The day was as good as done. "Well, there's not much else we can do this week, Mione. We can regroup on Monday and see what the others have thought up."

"I suppose you're right." She stood and stretched her asking back, her gaze trailing over the stacks of parchment around Harry's desk. A scrap of familiar handwriting caught her eye, making her pause mid-stretch. 

Harry noticed and snorted. "Fancy a look?"

Hermione blushed and dropped her arms, fussing with the hem of her blouse. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." 

He smirked and tugged the note out from under his mound of reports. "Here," he said, wiggling it in front of her face enticingly. "It's about you."

"What?!" She snatched it from Harry before she could stop herself. He snickered while she read.

_Harry,_

_Get her to the Golden Goose on Friday by eight and that order of Peruvian Instant Darkeness Powder is on us._

_\- F &G_

Hermione frowned in confusion. "How do they expect to make any money off their contract with the Ministry if they're giving us supplies for free?"

"I'm sure they'll charge. Eventually." Harry laughed at Hermione's incredulous look. "What? They know what they're doing!"

"If you say so..." She muttered, puzzling out the message further. "Who are they trying to have you set them up with now? It's not the new girl, Analisa Burgess?"

"No..." His eyes twinkle mischievously. "They have better taste than that." 

"I'm sure," she replied unenthusiastically. 

The Twins had been in the papers since Fred's near-death during the war. Their business had exploded in popularity, pushing them straight to the top of Britain's most eligible wizards list. They'd gained notoriety for their unusual habit of sharing the same woman; no one had seen them date separately in the past few years, not even Rita Skeeter with all her snooping. 

Not that Hermione cared. 

Deciding to go with blunt honesty over trickery (sorry, Fred and George!), Harry walked around his desk and plucked the parchment from Hermione's distracted grip. "They meant you, Mione. They've been hounding me all summer, but I've been ignoring their messages. And bribes."

Blinking at him, she frowned. "Bribes? But those are against-"

"I know,I know! I've returned them all. Well... most of them."

"Harry!"

Smirking, he shrugged and pointed at a box he'd tucked into his overly stuffed bookcase. "They refused to take back the bits I'd ordered for Teddy's birthday, and my payments kept showing back up in inconvenient places like in my coffee and in the loo. I gave up!"

Hermione smiled fondly, and Harry was surprised to see a warm glint in her eye. "Those two are... sweet, when they put their minds to it."

"So will you meet them tonight? For dinner?" 

Pursing her lips, she hesitated before answering. "...I guess..."


	3. Chapter 3

If it weren't for the Council's tracker spell, Draco wasn't sure if they would've been the first on the scene. Usually, it wasn't a problem; after all, the Winchesters had a decent habit of cleaning up their own messes. Draco's familiarity with the local wizarding community in rural Oklahoma was the only reason he'd offered to go. Well, there was also an intriguing magical antiques dealer in the area who happened to call only days earlier about some new pieces. 

The mess in front of him made Draco wish he'd stuck to desk duty for once. He'd warded the wooded area the minute he'd sensed it; no one could forget the feel of dark magic, not after Voldemort's attempted reign of terror. His hand subconsciously stroked over the faded brand on his forearm, a reminder of why he'd left Britain behind. 

Shaking himself free of those thoughts, he immediately started checking over the scene. His wand hovered over the various unconscious bodies, checking for life signs. The readings came off weirdly, several of the bodies not reading as muggles should, even if magic were involved. Still, at least the Winchesters were unharmed. That was a start. 

Jerking a mirror from his pocket, Draco contacted his team. "Jordan, we need a retrieval team. One confirmed dead, six unconscious." 

"Six?"

"Did I stutter?"

The other man frowned. "But they hadn't worked with others since the fiasco in Alabama."

"Well, apparently things have changed. Just get the team down here, now."

"Yes, sir. We'll gear up, be there in five." 

Nodding, he tucked the mirror away and began a slow inspection of the clearing. The residual energies were reading strangely. He could clearly make out the beginnings of an exorcism, but there wasn't anything that said a demon had been present. Why would the Winchesters think to exorcise...?

He crouched down, running a hand over the dirt near the dead woman. The muggle had tear tracks down her cheeks, and she held all the telltale signs of a magical death. Frowning, Draco murmured a spell over her body and stiffened when it confirmed his suspicions. A wizard. Avada Kedavra. That's how this muggle had died. 

Anxious now, Draco shifted away from the woman and increased his wards. It'd been a few years since he'd had to deal with someone using the killing curse; he'd almost forgotten how intensely disturbing it felt, the sting of deadly magic lingering in the air. 

Several loud pops told him the team had arrived. Chris Jordan, a stout man who looked like he belonged in a biker bar, strode to Draco's side and crossed his arms, snorting. "They've really done it this time, Malfoy. The hell were they messing with?"

"A wizard." Draco's short reply, though spoken quietly, seemed to pause the men milling around the unconscious people they were tending to. He waved them on, rolling his eyes. Americans. He still hadn't gotten used to their peculiarities, like finding a bloodthirsty shapeshifter to be more normal than a wizard causing a scene. They barely believed his stories of Voldemort or the war. 

Hovering medi-beds were loaded with the seven bodies in the clearing, the muggle having been wrapping in a body bag for transport to the morgue. Nora McCormick was lead medic, and her face spoke volumes as she motioned for Draco and Jordan to join her off to the side. The team continued scanning the nearby woods, clearing any and all signs of the disturbance to prevent muggle interference. Her fingers clutched at her clipboard, turning white. "The three unknowns aren't muggles, sir. Their readings make absolutely no sense!" 

Draco reviewed her notes as she shoved them under his nose. His eyebrows rose, and his eyes shot over to the medi-beds. "Are you sure you didn't misread?"

"Ha!" Her laugh held an edge of hysteria. "I read them each a dozen times. They're naked; it's not like they have on some magical armor to block the scans, but everything's reading like I'm trying to do a medical scan on a spatula!" 

Realizing that Draco's mind was focused on the strangers, Jordan placed a hand on Nora's shoulder. "It's alright, Nora. I'm sure it's just a fluke; this clearing is humming with magic right now. How about we get them loaded up and transported to the Plymouth Clinic?"

Draco found himself examining the nearest medi-bed, his eyes drifting over the hovering form. The body was nude and clearly male, but he was delicately limbed and seemed to be willowy. His skin was porcelain white, with faint markings down each arm. They looked like tattoos, but almost white-blue. Squinting, he tried to make out the shapes. He reached out toward a large mark on the man's shoulder, feeling an eerie pulse when his finger traced the outline. It had to be letters. Maybe ancient, since he didn't know them; he hadn't bothered to learn much about ancient alphabets and sigils after leaving Hogwarts. 

The man suddenly tensed, his muscles all going rigid under Draco's touch. Glancing up to the man's face, Draco was struck by the intensity of the frosty eyes now boring into his own. Before he could call out to Nora, a hand snaked out and pressed to his chest. Pain shot through him, and his knees gave way. He blacked out to the sounds of stunning spells and crunching leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

Dead. He had to be dead. His entire body burned, muscles aching and tense. It was rigor mortis, wasn't it? His mouth was dry and tasted like charcoal. A hand pried open one of his eyes, flashing a bright light into it while garbled noise flowed over him. A strange, high-pitched buzzing filled his ears, and he groaned as it seemed to get louder. 

"Okay, okay. Easy now, Malfoy." 

Draco tried to swallow, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh overhead lights. The bright white of the room hurt his head, but he struggled to stay conscious. "Where...?"

"You're in the med-bay. The team came back a few hours ago, gave their report after bringing you in." The petite nurse chuckled softly. "What is it, the twenty seventh time you've touched something you shouldn't?"

"Twenty third," he muttered disgruntled by her humor. How was he supposed to know what was and wasn't dangerous? He grew up across the bloody ocean from this mess! 

Seeing his temper flash behind the pain in his eyes, Nurse Aliyah Anderson stifled her amusement. "Well, no one blames you. The med team had already inspected that man's body for magical signatures; nothing came up. Those tattoos read as normal." She shrugged. "We've put the man and the other two unknowns on lockdown anyway, just in case." 

"Good." Draco struggled to sit up, his muscles screaming angrily at the effort. Knowing it was pointless to tell him to stay put, Aliyah plucked a potion from her nearby tray and handed it to him. He took a swig and winced at the flavor, but the full-body ache immediately began to dissipate. "Thanks." 

Aliyah gave Draco one more once-over before nodding. "You'll be good as new by tomorrow, I'm sure. Go home, get some rest. I have my assistants examining the three unknowns carefully and," she put up a hand to stop him from interrupting, "I asked Jordan to keep the security team on site for the time being." 

He snorted. "You obviously don't need me, then. Are the Winchesters awake yet?" 

"Um, no..." She frowned, murmuring almost to herself. "The magic in that clearing, whatever it was, seems to have caused a coma. But nothing reads as magical. And nothing reads as medical. It's like they're just asleep or something." Shaking herself, Aliyah focused back to Draco. "I'll keep you updated. This might be a serious problem, but we won't know until our exams are complete. Go home, now." 

Hands up in mock surrender, Draco snickered. "Yes, ma'am!" He ushered himself out the door before she could lecture him on proper after-care. 

It was embarrassing to be knocked out. Again. Merlin, he needed to be more careful! Ever since he moved to the States, he'd been learning the hard way just how different their magical community was. Even their creatures (and dangers) had a completely different theme, it seemed. Mostly, they all seemed to work together to make Draco look like an ass. 

There was a pool, he knew, on how many times he'd get knocked out by touching magically dangerous things before learning not to touch. He pretended not to know; after all, it was good for morale to see him humanized by his failings. He winced at the thought. Being a Malfoy meant very little here, but he'd earned his quick rise in the ranks. It'd been a hard few years, but the escape to America after the war had been the best decision he'd ever made. 

Draco walked automatically to the Apparation Point designated for the med-bay. He Apparated immediately to his flat. He'd found a large studio apartment in Salem, amused by the mix of Muggle and wizarding shops that had popped up in the town surrounding the American Council of Witches and Wizards. If only the New Agers knew! At first, he'd stayed on base with the others, using a barracks room with few personal items. But even with a fresh start, a Malfoy is always a Malfoy; he couldn't stand sharing his living space so closely with others, especially Jordan. They'd grown to be friends, but the man was a pig. 

The wards of Draco's flat showed no signs of tampering. He checked out of habit more than security anymore; it'd been almost a year since the last unwanted visitor had stopped by. He dragged his jacket off, shoulders aching still from the shock of touching that strange Muggle. No, not a Muggle really. Whatever that man was, Draco was glad to be off duty. 

He strode into the bathroom, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Water flicked on with a quick twist as Draco examined his face in the mirror. Eh, no harm no foul. Sweeping a hand through his hair, he froze. What the...?

Over the faded Dark Mark of his arm, there was a faint blue symbol. It almost seemed to pulse as he studied it, but that wasn't possible. Aliyah never would've let him go home with active, unknown magic. How did she miss this?

Shutting off the faucet, Draco retreated to his bedroom, finding his wand where he'd tossed it on his desk. Carefully, he drew the tip over the strange new marking. "Traducelo," he murmured. The New World magic did nothing; the marking remained unreadable. Annoyed, he tried to remove it instead. "Eliminalo." Nothing. 

Glancing at his jacket, he considered using his mirror to contact Nurse Anderson's team. Maybe he should wait? Curiosity, however, got the best of him. Draco sat down on his bed, hoping to eliminate the chance of waking up spralled across the floor. Taking a deep breath, he gave the symbol one more magical push. "Activalo!"

A bright flash rendered Draco temporarily blind, and his stomach twisted painfully. A shout of surprise escaped him as he tumbled face first onto the ground. No, wait, that wasn't the carpet. Senses overloaded, he started to push himself up only to realize a hand gripped his wrist. Focusing hard, he realized he was spralled over the willowy unknown creature from the clearing; the man's fingers encircled his wrist, and Draco realized one hand was braced over the stranger's shoulder, the other on a pale but muscled chest. 

The hand on his wrist slid up, fingers dancing over his altered Mark. Icy blue eyes pierced his own, and Draco froze. They stared at one another, breathing slowly and not making a sound. Those fingers continued to brush across his forearm, almost tickling with their softness. A confused frown flickered across the blue eyes, as if Draco had become a puzzle to solve. The tableau was broken as the door swung open and the security detail barged in, wands at the ready. 

"Malfoy?" 

Blinking, Draco slid off of the cot and got to his feet quickly. His skin tingled where it had been caressed, but he ignored it. "I... this..." He cleared his throat, seeing Aliyah at the back of the small crowd. "Nurse Anderson, I believe I'm in need of further examination." 

Years of training kept a blush from surfacing on Draco's skin. His exposed, very bare skin. He'd been shirtless when he'd discovered the new symbol over his Mark. Had he known he'd be traveling, he might've redressed first. 

Aliyah followed Draco quietly, noticing how tense the muscles across his back were. He looked calm and in control, but she could sense he was putting up a facade. As they stepped into her exam room, she clicked the door closed. He stood in the middle of the room, unmoving, his back to the door. Facing him, she noticed his hands were balled into fists, squeezed so tightly they were white. 

Before she could ask, he spoke. "I went home, Aliyah." His fingers clenched, then slowly loosened. He turned to face her, raking fingers through his hair in agitation. "I started to undress for a shower, and I noticed this." 

He flung his arm out for her to examine. Draco didn't often speak of the Mark on his arm, but she knew why it was there. Even in America, the stories of Voldemort were well known. Gently holding his wrist, she tilted his arm into the light and gasped. "What's this?"

He stopped her hand as she reached to touch the strange new symbol. "Don't. Merlin knows what'll happen." Freed from her grasp, his hands returned to clenching at his sides. "I was stupid, I know. But I couldn't help it. I figured you'd missed the thing because it wasn't active, right? So I... may have messed with it." 

"Oh, Draco." 

He waved her off. "I know, I know! Stupid, right? I tried to translate it with my wand, and then to erase it. Nothing happened. I thought maybe it was just a residual thing, maybe from that creature." He eyes darted toward the hall, as if he were looking through the doors and walls to see that man. As his attention returned to Aliyah, he shrugged. "I tried activating it."

She gasped. "You what?! Draco Malfoy! Of all the idiotic, pea-brained things to try! The least you could've done is come back here first!" Aliyah slapped his shoulder, the easiest place to reach. 

Draco flinched away, rubbing at the red mark forming from her attack. "Ouch! Bloody hell!" 

"I can't believe you!" Aliyah grabbed a clipboard and quickly made a few notes on the forms attached to it. Ripping them free, she practically threw them at Draco. 

He quickly skimmed them, then sneered. "You can't be-"

"Yes, I'm completely serious! You WILL stay here, until we know what's going on with the whole thing." The witch crossed her arms. 

Draco read over the quarantine order and sighed. It was a smart move, really. "Alright. Can I at least go home for a few things? I swear I'll come straight back for quarantine."

"Fine." 

Not giving his friend a moment to change her mind, he Apparated directly from her office to his flat. Glancing at the clock, he quickly pulled his bug-out bag from the closet. In their line of work, it always paid to have a few days' worth of supplies and clothing prepared. Knowing he needed to hurry, Draco sat at his desk and penned a quick note. 

_Granger,_

_I need your help. This symbol has been placed on my person._

_Please come to the American Council, address below. Tell them I requested your assistance._

_Draco_

Sketching the symbol on his arm roughly, he shrugged. It'd have to do; hopefully, Hermione would be too curious to ignore his request. He sealed the scroll with a quick flick of wax, then tucked it into his Sending Box. The scroll would be sent to the British Ministry headquarters, thanks to new attempts at diplomacy in the past few years. Sending Boxes had been placed in most ministries and other wizarding political headquarters, allowing for swift communication between countries. He estimated that it would take a few hours for the letter to be processed and sent to Hermione's desk. Tomorrow, then. "Don't let me down, Granger." 

Knowing Aliyah would be waiting for him, Draco grabbed his things and Apparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES  
> New World Spells - I've based them loosely on Spanish, though I'll probably have some in Native American tongues as well. America is very diverse, after all! The words and explanations are below: 
> 
> traducir - to translate - traducelo (translate it)  
> eliminar - to eliminate - eliminalo (eliminate it)  
> activar - to activate - activalo (activate it)
> 
> I figured this was a simpler and more diverse way of adding new magic to the HP world, especially with a crossover to America. America is less traditional about most things, at least compared to Britain. It's more wild and free, and that'll become more apparent along the way.


	5. Chapter 5

She couldn't believe it. 

She was going out to dinner. With Fred and George. 

Dinner. 

Like a date! 

Hermione smoothed down her blouse as she eyed herself in the mirror. A huge part of her was insanely curious; after all, non-monogamy was abnormal even by wizarding standards! Maybe she could ask the Twins a few questions, from a sociological standpoint, of course. 

Her pulse skipped a bit. "It's just Fred and George. We've known each other forever." Telling herself to breathe, she grabbed her bag and nodded. "Alrighty then... here we go!" 

With a twist and a pop, Hermione found herself just outside of the Golden Goose. She'd tossed on leggings and a nice blouse, nothing too fancy considering the location. The pub tucked itself between a stationary shop and a robe boutique in wizarding London. They were known for delicious food and loud Quidditch nights. Hermione checked her watch. 7:43. 

She slid into the pub, the warm smokiness of the interior much like a friendly hug. Her eyes skimmed the tables and bar. No familiar redheads. Hmm. With a wave to an acquaintance from the Ministry here and there, she found a corner booth near one of two fireplaces and tucked away to wait. She slipped a book from her bag and began reading, the light of the fire flickering brightly enough for her keen eyes. 

A flash of green pulled her from the story a short time later. Two men stepped from the floo, dusting themselves as they appeared to continue a conversation from before their trip. 

"Then he must not be telling her."

"But this is Harry we're talking about! He's not-"

"-overprotective of his friends? Riiight."

"But we're not wankers! Why would he need to keep us away from-"

"-one of his best friends. I don't know, maybe he can't imagine the awkwardness of dinners at home?"

"Bloody hell, I'd settle for a dinner out-"

"-if she'd just show up, yeah?"

Hermione snickered quietly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Fred and George definitely looked delicious, she'd give them that. They were still dressed from work, she guessed, their brightly stripped suits fitting their lanky frames perfectly. Loose, shaggy hair fell haphazardly across their foreheads, very dashing. Calming herself, she tucked away her book and laced her hands together on the table. "Oh, I think she'd settle for a dinner out, too, if you could be bothered to look for her." 

The stunned silence of the two quickly melted. "Hermione!" 

They slid into the booth with her, one beside her and the other across. Eyeing them both, she smirked. "Fred," she greeted to the one across from her. "And George," she poked the other sitting at her side. "It's lovely to see you both. How have you been?"

A shared look flitted between them. Fred responded first. "How did you...?"

"Know who was who?" she finished. At their nods, she shrugged. "Oh, I have my ways." 

"Bloody brilliant," George murmured, his hand resting atop hers casually, causing a small blush to creep across her face. 

Fred nodded. "Figures you'd find us out. How'd you tell?"

"I, um," Hermione bit her lip and completely missed the heated looks she received. "Well, the two of you aren't really the same. I mean, you have the same look of course, but you carry yourselves differently. That's all." She floundered a bit in their silence, feeling a wash of relief as a server arrived at their table. 

The perky young witch introduced herself. "Hello, my name's Victoria! It's a wonderful night, isn't it?" Without waiting for a response, she motioned at their empty table. "So what's it gonna be? Do you fancy a few pints, or are you looking for a good bite? We've got Dublin Coddle in the pot, it's brill!" 

Shaken from their reverie, the boys perked up. "That sounds great, don't you think?"

"Better than the stale chips from lunch."

"Right, I reckon a real meal is in order. And maybe a pint apiece?"

"Oh, fancy some firewhiskey?"

Hermione interrupted their banter. "Actually, I'd like a hot cider, if you have any?" Victoria nodded, clearly amused with the twins. Hermione suddenly wondered if they'd been coming to the Golden Goose all along. She usually ate at home herself, curling up with a good book by the fire. But Harry had implied that Fred and George had been hounding him for months to get her here. Surely they hadn't... not since summer?

Victoria's voice returned her attention to present. "So a hot cider, two pints, and three bowls of Coddle, yeah?" At their nods, she took off to fill their orders. 

Fred's leg brushed hers as he shifted, a flush of awareness across her skin. Hermione laughed at herself internally, bemused by her own reactions to the two men she'd known since coming to the wizarding world a decade ago. 

The shimmer of amusement in her eye caught Fred's attention. She seemed to glow in the firelight. "Hermione," he smirked, "I do believe you look like you're up to no good." 

"Quite right," George added as his fingers traced her folded hands absentmindedly. "I recognize trouble when I see it." 

"Oh?" Self-consciously, she freed a hand to run through her hair. "I'd think it'd be familiar, seeing at how I assume you look in the mirror each morning." 

Fred's longer fingers caught her hand away from her hair, drawing it toward him. A light kiss brushed across her knuckles, the smirk in his eyes full of said trouble. "True." 

Victoria's return with a tray of food and drink saved Hermione from the slightly overwhelming attention of two serial flirts. She gently extracted her hands from theirs, tucking them into her lap for safety. The move didn't go unnoticed. 

In a companionable silence, they each started in on the rich Dublin Coddle before them. After a few moments, Hermione asked them about business. "How's the shop? I heard you'd started a few new lines over the summer, something about cosmetics and costuming?"

George sat back, sipping from his pint. "It's fantastic! We had to prove they weren't a trick, of course." 

"Oh, of course," she replied. "It's hardly normal for a joke shop to sell anything, well, serious." 

"Bollocks!" Fred waved away that unfortunate truth. "No one trusts us, that's what's what!"

She giggled at his indignation, reaching out to pat his arm. "Oh, there there."

Eyes narrowed, Fred trapped her hand with his own, drawing her closer across the table. His voice whispered across her skin, the tone taking a serious edge. "Do you trust us, Hermione?"

Her pulse sped and she blinked. "Of course I do." A strangely satisfied look crossed his face, and George looked smug. She laughed and pulled her hand back, rolling her eyes. "Now, that doesn't mean I'd buy nail varnish from the likes of you." 

Snorting, George raised his glass to her in a mock salute. "Fair enough."

"Can't get anything past you, now can we?"

"Especially someone so brilliant-"

"-and quick on the catch-"

"-and beautiful-"

"And not buying your flattery," she finished for them. 

"Touché!" They said together. 

For another hour or so they chatted away, oblivious to the occasional stares thrown their way. After all, with Hermione's part in the war and the twin's own business success, there wasn't often a time when people didn't take notice of them. It was in this way that they missed the less friendly attention of a shadowed figure across the pub, one that left shortly after they finished their meal. 

Surprised at how much fun she'd been having, Hermione glanced at her watch and frowned. "It's getting late, boys. I suppose we should call it a night." At the suggestive smirk that immediately formed on their faces, she shook her head. "Don't even think about it! I meant to say, it's going to be another early morning for me, and it's getting late." 

"Ugh, morning! What a dirty word!" George slid from his seat and offered Hermione his hand. "Let me," he said as he pulled her to her feet. However, he hadn't really moved to allow her up; they're bodies brushed together in the small space between the seat and George's tall frame. 

"Thank you..." A bit breathless, Hermione's gaze flickered over to Fred. He'd risen as well, a slightly hungry look in his eyes. This wasn't quite what she'd expected, date or no. George finally eased back, giving her space. 

"Can we persuade you to join us-"

"-for a nightcap at our place?" 

"Sure," she answered without thinking. It'd been instinctive, her blood humming warmly from the constant attention they'd been giving her all night. She really shouldn't, but her curiosity practically begged to be satisfied. She wouldn't stay long, just a quick visit.

Sharing a look, the twins each looped an arm with one of hers. They'd expected a polite rejection, but this was much better. Silently, they agreed that Apparating would be a smarter plan than the floo. No need to embarrass themselves by explaining the name they gave their flat. 

The boys walked Hermione toward the door of the pub, waving a final thanks to Victoria. As the cool autumn air tickled their skin, George explained. "We'll need to Apparate just outside of the shop. Our security wards won't allow you inside without some tweaking." He waited for her nod, and then they all popped out of sight. 

They appeared just outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the windows dark and quiet. Hermione tilted her head to the side. "You know, I don't believe I've ever seen this place so... calm." 

Fred's wand flicked over the wards of their place as he agreed. "It's true, I don't think most people realize it's not spelled to be a raucous mess." He released her arm, allowing George to guide her up through the door. 

"Sorry, we have to walk through the shop. Didn't think to have an outside entrance added for our loft." He ushered her toward the back counter, lifting the pass-through for her to slide by. "Normally, we'd give you a tour, but..."

"...but I've already seen it all, right?" She rolled her eyes. "Does that usually work?"

"Does what work?" Fred joined them, having locked the front door once again. 

"Showing off your goods," she winked. "I'm sure the ladies love it." She smiled as she turned toward the backroom, a set of stairs tucked almost out of sight. "This way?"

The twins stared after her in shock. 

"Did Hermione Granger just-"

"-flirt with us? I do believe so, George."

"Bloody brilliant," he muttered as they followed her through the storeroom. 

Fred nipped up the stairs first, opening the trap door that served as their loft's entrance. Hermione followed him, amused at the playfulness of having that as your front door. Behind her, George admired her choice of leggings and resisted the urge to caress her luscious curves. His fingers itched with want. 

Fred was in no better of a state. Helping Hermione up the final steps into their loft, he caught a glimpse of creamy cleavage and a hint of vanilla tickled his nose. He could almost taste her sweet skin. 

Not oblivious to the spike of heat radiating from Fred and George, Hermione stilled her inner worries with a warm smile. She really did trust these two, and if they'd decided she was desirable, who was she to disagree? 

Her eyes swept the room as George joined them, a soft thunk of the trap door loud in the strangely quiet darkness. With the light allowed by the windows, she could make out the openness of the space. A couch and chair sat near an unlit hearth, shelves standing against most of the walls, covered in books as well as miscellaneous unknown items. Her perusal stopped as Fred's hands rested gently on her shoulders. 

His lips brushed her temple, her cheek, and then hovered over her lips. "May I?"

Mesmerized, she closed the small distance between them and pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. A sigh escaped her; he tasted like cinnamon, spicy and sweet. The hands on her shoulders slid her closer, their bodies pulled together flushed and warm. Her own hands slid around Fred, fingers sliding under his jacket and dancing across the muscles of his back. 

She jumped as a second pair of hands caressed her hips, George's lips pressed to her shoulder in a row of soft kisses. A flick of tongue sent goosebumps across her skin. "Mmm, sweet." 

Fred pulled back, his eyes skimming the shadows that played over Hermione's face. In a smooth shift, she found herself facing George. One of his hands slid around her neck, pressing her forward into a sensual play of lips and tongue and teeth. His other hand pressed on her lower back, grinding their hips together slowly. A soft whimper escaped her mouth, sending two pulses racing. 

Smirking to himself, Fred couldn't help but appreciate the chemistry between them. He'd hoped, but still. Clearing his throat to get George's attention, he flicked on the lights. "That was-"

"-delicious." Admiring the spots of pink on Hermione's cheeks, George stepped back and released her. 

Hermione's mind spun for a moment, surprised by the sudden light and the unexpected lack of deliciously overwhelming attention. Her disappointment was short-lived, however, as she got a good look at the flat. Eyes wide, she took in strangely mellow decor. 

This was unexpected. The walls were painted in a pinstripe, two shades of grey blending into a sophisticated backdrop for their collections of random items. Family photos graced much of the nearest wall, moving happily from frame to frame. The bookshelves around the walls were filled with an odd mix, ancient texts mixed with brand new Muggle books. The contrast was striking; it drew Hermione, her interest piqued by more than one of the titles they'd collected. 

Fred and George watched Hermione as she floated toward their books. "Figures," they muttered to each other, eyes crinkling with quiet laughter. Some things never changed. They let her go, taking a moment to relieve themselves of their jackets. 

Hearing their movements, Hermione flushed and turned back to them abruptly. "I'm sorry, I..." she paused, distracted by their well-fitted buttonups. There was something sinfully sexy about the way they had immediately rolled up their sleeves, clearly out of habit. Biting her lip against sudden nerves, she glanced away. "Your loft is lovely." 

"Don't sound so surprised," Fred grinned, smoothly directing her to the teal couch resting near the fireplace. It was longer than usual, a tweak Hermione suspected they'd made due to their own height. It couldn't be comfortable trying to catch a nap on a small settee, after all. 

George plopped down with three butterbeers, patting the space next to him. Fred took the other end of the couch, imitating George's gesture. "You guys really are incorrigible!" She sank into the couch cushions between them, a tad stiff with uncertainty. "I mean, really!"

She tugged a bottle of butterbeer from George, twisting it open to quench her suddenly dry throat. What was she doing? This was crazy! George tossed Fred his own bottle, a move so smooth it had to be practiced. Hermione relaxed as she was reminded, once again, that these were her longtime friends. 

And so a night of catching up and wild stories commenced. The twins had numerous tales of their own poor choices, often experiments for the shop that went horribly awry. Hermione shared her own experiences, including the unwanted gifting of a house-elf from a foreign diplomat (and the unfortunate trauma she caused in her attempt to give little Izzy clothing). Instead, she'd found herself stuck with a very helpful flatmate, or so she pretended. Laughter was their constant companion, leaving no awkwardness or ice between them as the months since their last get together with family melted away. 

Somehow, Hermione found herself laying across the couch. Her head rested on George's lap, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her scalp. Meanwhile, her feet had been kidnapped by Fred, shoes discarded to the floor as he gave what had to be The Best Foot Massage. Ever.

Her steady breathing tipped off George as she fell asleep between them. He motioned to Fred mid-story. "You've gone and bored her to sleep."

"No I didn't, it's just late." He checked the time and wrinkled his nose. "It's already half past two. No wonder she's out!" 

Their whispers flittered over Hermione, who hummed in her sleep before rolling onto her side. Her face nuzzled George's thigh, and he took a sharp breath. "Okay, we need to get her to bed then. Now." 

Amused at his brother's predicament, Fred carefully extracted himself from the couch. "Stay here, I'll fix the bed." 

Growling under his breath, George watched Fred slip into his own bedroom. They had an agreement, whenever a woman was involved, to take turns enlarging their beds for the extra company. It was Fred's turn to host, as it were. It'd be far more gentlemanly for them to tuck Hermione away in a room alone, or to allow her to sleep on the couch unfettered... but they'd never claimed to be gentlemen. 

Fred returned and assisted George in gently lifting Hermione into his arms. They moved her into the bedroom, a small lamp giving them enough light to see what they were doing. As George shifted to set her down, she curled into him and refused to unwind her arms from his neck. "A little help here."

"Looks like you're doing fine to me," Fred quipped. 

"Can you at least fix my clothes? I don't think I can change, kinda have a handful here." 

A few wand flicks had them all dressed in pajamas, Hermione still sound asleep in George's bare arms. Cotton pants hung low on his hips, Fred a mirror image of his own comfort. Thankfully, he hadn't played around with Hermione's clothes; having her wake up in a transfigured t-shirt and pants would be far less of a shock when she realized she was still at their loft in the morning. 

He eased them both onto the bed, her grasp forcing him to face her as they lay down across the sheets. Her legs rubbed against him as she got comfortable, one sliding between his own in a subconscious effort to get as close as possible to his warm body. He groaned quietly, and Fred snickered as he returned to the bed. The lights were all out, the doors locked. He slid in behind Hermione, his body spooning hers as a hand traced down her side to her hip. She wiggled against him, shifting until she was comfortable. A sleepy sigh escaped her lips, and then all was quiet. 

She would be the only person sleeping comfortably that night.


	6. Chapter 6

Nora checked the time. Almost midnight. Knowing Malfoy, he'd still be up. Being in quarantine had to chafe, but everyone knew better than to trust unrecognized magics. That symbol he'd ended up with, well that was just bonkers! It didn't read as anything magic whatsoever, but it clearly caused him to teleport directly into a quarantined zone of the med-bay. Through the wards and everything! 

Huffing to herself, the petite woman strode down the halls. She'd told Jordan to get her on watch detail, and he hadn't argued. Draco Malfoy might've kept his past quiet when he joined the American Council's ranks, but those closest to him knew just how far he'd run from it. They honored his privacy, though; that's why she needed to boot out the nosy fucks she could see peeking into the quarantined room. 

The two younger men, boys really, jerked to attention when they noticed her. "Go hit the hay, we've got this." They didn't ask or argue; everyone knew that Malfoy's team was a tightly knit unit. Of course they'd watch over their own. 

Nora flicked her wand over the containment wards, their powerful magic both containing everything within the room and monitoring it thoroughly. That unknown who marked Malfoy hadn't moved since earlier; he'd been awake, but he'd remained silent and allowed himself to be scanned without issue. Then he'd returned to his cot and closed his eyes. The other two unknowns hadn't budged yet, but she was starting to think it was all an act. The readings from the wards couldn't measure their brain waves or energy patterns; beyond their breath and pulse rates, nothing spoke of their condition at all. 

Draco lounged on his own assigned cot, a book thumbed through lazily as he tried to relax. Exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to try to sleep. He couldn't, though. Not here. Not so exposed. If he had just avoided proding at that stupid symbol, he'd be at home. In bed. Asleep. Ugh!

A knock on the door's window drew his attention, and Nora gave him a thumbs up before turning away. He released a quiet groan. Finally, those greenhorns were gone! Their stares had kept him on edge for hours, but he'd refused to acknowledge their curiosity. Dog-earring his spot, he tossed his book onto a side table and popped back on his pillow. 

Sleep took him almost immediately.

* * *

_  
His eyes buzzed with white noise, ringing from the hit he'd taken to the head. He touched his brow, his hand coming back covered in blood. Shit. His eyes swept the room, but it was dark. Too dark. Squinting, he could make out someone else standing a few feet away._

_A cold voice crept over him, itchy across his skin. "It's about time you awoke, boy." The voice hissed in the shadows. "Perhaps Bellatrix was... over-zealous?"_

_"M-my lord, I..." Draco scrambled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. His mind raced. He remembered the witch tearing into his mother's parlor, wretching him from his seat. He'd struggled, surely, but her fingers had held him in a vice grip as she'd Disapparated with him in tow. But why?_

_A torch on the wall flickered to life, making Draco flinch as Lord Voldemort's form was illuminated. A malicious smile light his face as he stared into the boy's eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you wonder why you're here." Watching fear flicker in those silver orbs, he drew out his wand slowly and fingered it as if lost in thought. "Perhaps you need to be reminded. Crucio!"_

_Draco shouted in surprise, dropping back to the floor and writhing in agony. Bile rose in his throat, but he pushed it back. The Dark Lord held the curse for mere moments before letting it up, allowing Draco to cough and gasp in breath. He scrambled to remember what he'd done, hoping to quell the elder wizard's anger._

_"Crucio!" Voldemort hexed the boy again, enjoying the stifled scream that slip from his clenched mouth. It was such a lovely sound. Shame on him for trying to resist!_

_The curse ended again, and Draco shuddered on the floor. He could hear himself whimper, almost as if from a distance. Inside his mind, the secret he held remained tucked behind warded blocks even he couldn't feel. A strange magic held them at bay, leaving Draco confused and terrified on the dungeon floor._

_Voldemort crouched down next to the useless child cowering on the ground. His long fingers clutched at the boy's chin, forcing him to look into the Dark Lord's eyes. He shoved into Draco's mind, ignoring the cries of pain it caused for him to dig around for information. Finding emptiness in place of the answers he sought, his lips curled into a sneer. He'd get the truth from this weak Death Eater spawn, one way or another._

_"Crucio!"  
_

* * *

2:17AM. 

Bored, Nora checked inside of the room again. Malfoy thrashed in his sleep, whimpering and muttering nonsense in the quiet of the room; she knew what was coming, had learned years ago what kind of noises her comrade made when caught up in one of his nightmares. His hands clenched at the sheets of his cot, sweat glistening across his skin. She frowned, turning away to guard the hall once again. No one outside of their team would be allowed to see Malfoy in this condition. Or hear him, she thought as she cast a silencing spell over the pre-existing wards. It was the least she could do. 

Unbeknownst to the guardian witch, there were others paying attention to the thrashing form of Draco Malfoy. Three figures listened intently, sensing more of the nightmare than any witch or wizard would ever know. 

The furthest away was a roguish man with dark brown hair and deeply tanned skin. Henna-colored marks ran down the arms he rubbed as he sat up, his gaze carefully reviewing the others laying nearby. He wasn't sure where he was, or who for that matter. He had an idea, but it was sketchy and unclear. 

Hearing the movement, the woman in the next cot stretched and yawned. "Are we done sleeping, then?" She swung her legs over the edge, running her fingers through her firey red har. It settled around her shoulders, and she examined herself with a hint of amusement. She'd let the strange magic users inspect her, seeing no reason to let them know she was awake and aware of their scans. Her fingers traced the sigils she knew ran down her thigh; she was fairly sure of what had happened to them all.

"Perhaps we should leave?" This came from the cot closest to the whimpering dreamer. The thin, pale male had rolled toward Draco, his brows drawn together with unfamiliar worry. 

"I'm not so sure that's a great idea, honey." As cold eyes were turned to hers, she held up her hands in mock surrender. "Calm down! I just mean that they've got some serious mojo going on out there. Besides, I'm not sure there's much we can do at the moment, give our... forms."

The three shared a look, a quiet understanding passing between them. The rogue watched the door for a moment before speaking. "I... that is, we. We need to find the others." 

The woman snorted. "We? Fuck that, babe! I'm nothing but stolen goods! I ain't helping them with shit!" 

"You're a Patronus. It's your purpose." 

"Ha!" She jumped to her feet, arms moving quickly with agitation. "Like I wanted to protect shit! Those brats stole me, and they've been shoving me into everything they can get their hands on lately. I mean, seriously! All I ever do is torture and kill nowadays!" In a huff, she turned to look at the other man. "Some of us get tired of killing, ya know?"

"I'm sure," came a muffled response from the other man. 

The pale creature watched as Draco continued to clench and twist as if in agony. He remembered his instinctive reaction when the man had touched him in the woods; he'd lashed out and sealed him immediately, so sure he was being grabbed by a demon. He'd only realized later, while quietly listening to the words of the magic users as they worked, that something was extremely off. More to the point, he had a body. 

He could see the memories playing out in the other man's mind; it all reeked of evil, but this time it clearly wasn't by choice. He rose, edging his way toward the sweat-soaking cot. What could he do? His gaze skimmed over the body before him, catching on that evil mark he'd felt in the forest. The pale tattoo seemed to ripple with the nightmare, but his own symbol flashed with power in return. 

Annoyed with his own reluctance, he knelt down and pressed a hand to Draco's forehead. "Protegat," he murmured, his shield blocking the memories back down into the man's subconscious. The pained noises stopped and hands released the sheets slowly. 

Suddenly awake, Draco gripped the wrist of the hand touching him out of reflex more than fear. He blinked slowly, his mind dragging itself up from the depths of sleep. Those icy blue eyes hovered over him, penetrating his sluggish awareness. Uncertainty crept across Draco's face. 

"Sleep, you are protected." His fingers slipped from the pale wrist, and his mind drifted back toward unconsciousness. A murmur chased his fading thoughts, barely registering as sleep swallowed him once again. 

_Little dragon..._


	7. Chapter 7

It was still relatively early in the morning, at least by normal Saturday standards, when Hermione stirred herself awake. She was immensely relaxed and warm, making her want to curl deeper into the blankets and return to that lovely dream. Only...

...was that a hand on her bum?

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she examined the face resting so close to hers and almost sighed. So it wasn't a dream after all. By the gentle tickle of breath on her neck, she could tell that one of the boys had his head buried in her hair as he slept, an arm tossed haphazardly across her midsection. The other faced her, and it was his hand that seemed to slowly knead her bum, her leg thrown over his hip sometime in their sleep. An impressive thickness rested against her thigh; a similar friendly hello nudged against the back of her thigh. 

Wow. This was... wow. 

A clock Hermione could barely see over her bedmate's shoulder said it was 9:37. With a groan, she tried to shift herself out of the tangle of limbs. "Fred, George, let me up." She tugged at her leg, but the hand on her bum slid up to her thigh and held her in place. The arm around her middle smoothly shifted, a hand gently caressing her breast. Flushed with frustration, amusement, and a bit of arousal, she bit her lip and thought quickly. 

Fingers dug into the ticklish spots along George's ribs, and his hands bolted up to protect himself, releasing her leg. Hermione immediately rolled over in Fred's arms and gave him the same treatment, then bounced up out of the nest they'd cornered her in before either could fully comprehend that they were, indeed, awake now. 

"Morning," she chirped with a small laughter at their mussed hair and vacant expressions. She slipped out of the bedroom quickly, darting to the bathroom to relieve herself. It wasn't until washing her hands that Hermione noticed her clothing. They'd given her jammies, how sweet! The t-shirt had a logo for their shop, while the pants were her favorite shade of blue. How thoughtful!

She rested against the doorframe of their room, amused to find them both still sitting on the bed bewildered and half asleep. Her eyes roamed their bodies, appreciating their lack of sleep shirts as an opportunity to ogle their forms unhindered by clothing. 

Fred jerked as he became aware of Hermione's return. "Morning, Mione." He mumbled as he rubbed at his eyes. 

"Morning," she replied softly. "I have to run, had a few things at back the Ministry that I wanted to grab today for review."

"Ugh," George groaned as he stretched and stood. "Don't you ever NOT work?"

"Yeah, come back to bed."

"Your spot's still warm." Fred patted it. 

"And it's Saturday. Your lot is off on weekends."

Their grumbles were adorably gruff. "I know, but I promised Harry I'd finish up." She smirked as they both pouted. "Besides, you have a shop to run."

"Let Lee do it."

"He always takes mornings. Nasty-"

"-early bird habit of his."

"Be that as it may," she said as she stepped away from the doorframe. "I need to floo home, have a shower, then tuck over to the office for my files."

Two sets of footsteps sounded behind her as she walked toward the living room purposefully. A hand on her wrist had her stopping, another hand turning her face up for a quick kiss. "Don't go just yet."

Fred's hand on her cheek slid away as George's hand ran up her neck and drew her in for a kiss as well. "We have a shower," he murmured across her lips, smirking suggestively. He even wiggled his eyebrows, making her snort. 

"You two really are impossible!" She playfully batted away their hands, stepping just out of reach. "Now look," she watched their gazes turn wary and shook her head. "I had a surprisingly wonderful time last night, and I... enjoy the attention. Really, I do."

She danced out of reach as they made a move toward her, eyes alight with mischief. "But!"

"But?"

George shared a look with Fred, and she knew they were planning something. "But I really, really, really! Need to go grab my files." She darted away as they lunged, grabbing a handful of floo powder and tossing it into the fireplace. "Maybe next time!"

"Hermione!" The twins whined as she leapt into the green flames.

"258 Rose Terrace."

She stumbled and caught herself as she arrived in her own living room, her laughter breaking the silence. Dusting ashes from her body, she started toward her bathroom for a quick shower.

"Hey!" The shout startled her, and she spun around to see a face dancing in green flames.  
"Oh, don't you start!"

A hand wagged next to Fred's huge grin. "You forgot something in your rush, ya know."

Her eyes widened as she realized what he was holding. How the hell had she forgotten that? She patted down her sides, completely confused. He chuckled and tossed her wand through, landing it on her coffee table with a soft clink. 

As she picked it up, he smirked at her look of disbelief. It was good to see she'd been distracted by them, enough to leave behind her own wand in her rush to go be responsible and adult-ish about her promises to Harry. Fred waved goodbye and pulled back, and the flames died down to nothing once again. 

Hermione stood there, staring at the blank space for quite a while before she realized what she was doing. Rolling her eyes at her own behavior, she took a quick shower and tossed on a jumper before flooing herself to the Ministry. 

The halls and offices were mostly empty as she made her way to her own area. She waved to a coworker here and there, no one at all surprised to see her on a weekend. Her files were exactly where she'd tucked them the night before; she'd decided to try and rework the proposal for the American Council again, as hopeless as that cause seemed to everyone else involved. Hermione was sure they'd agree to diplomatic relations if only the right words were involved. Freedom. Open trade. Unrestricted access. Surely someone at their headquarters would see the value in having access to what the Old World wizarding community had to offer!

A small scroll in her inbox caught her eye, drawing her from her musings. The thin green ribbon marked it as an international contact; the Sending Boxes were arranged to allow all items to be reviewed, as a security precaution, and they were then delivered with a green ribbon to signify their safety for the recipient. Intrigued, she tugged off the tie and unrolled the parchment, quickly reading the contents. 

She read them again. And then again, sure she'd misread them somehow. Draco Malfoy was asking for her help? From her? He'd been out of country since just after the war, abandoning his family and remaining friends for a fresh start; she'd recognized his need to run, even if others had thought him a coward. If he were contacting her, it must be serious. 

It was also the in they needed, a way to get into the American Council and actually speak with them face to face. She had no intention of missing an opportunity like that. Dashing out the door with Draco's note, she rushed off to make the necessary arrangements for a trip aboard.


	8. Chapter 8

Nurse Anderson ran her morning diagnostic spells over each of the Winchesters, her concern growing as they remained unconscious. She wasn't picking up any reasons, magical or muggle, for them to still be out cold. Even the angel remained unresponsive. Then again, the Winchesters often found the least fixable types of trouble to get involved in. It was their way. 

"Aliyah! We need you!" The shout startled her, and she turned to see Nora bursting into the room. "They're awake!" 

"Who...? Oh!" Aliyah rushed after Nora's already retreating form, following her to the quarantine zone. A security detail stood poised and ready to enter on command. Sneaking a peek through the door's window, she could see all three of the unknown beings were conscious; the lithe pale one stood next to Malfoy's bed, his gaze not leaving the other man's face. 

Nora gathered her team. "Look, we need to be careful. Two wands per target, be prepared to stun and bind on my order." 

A chorus of "yes, ma'am" rang out. 

Motioning for Aliyah to stay put, Nora took down the wards enough for the team to enter the room. Two of the creatures stayed stationary, each perched on the edge of their cots and staring at the security team with a mixture of amusement and confusion. As wands were raised and held on designated targets, trouble broke out. 

The man watching over Malfoy reacted quickly, his form blurring with his speed. Stunners were thrown out by multiple wands, but each missed. A second volley, then a third were thrown, the target weaving into the line of fire as he threw up an arm. The resulting crashes from deflected spells caused the electricity to flicker, blinding everyone temporarily in the commotion. As the lights returned, the man stood between Malfoy's cot and the security team. His posture screamed defense. 

"Stop!" Aliyah shoved past the men closest to the door, her command immediately obeyed. The creatures' eyes were all on her. "Look... we aren't here to hurt you. Or him," she added as she looked directly at the one protecting Malfoy. 

He stood down, immediately shifting out of his fighting stance to stand normally before Malfoy's bed. "I apologize. I misunderstood your intent." His tone held an edge, belying his true feelings on the matter. 

Assessing the group, Aliyah made a quick decision. "Nora, would you please station the security team outside of the room? I need to run my diagnostics." 

Nora eyed the other woman but nodded. "You heard her. Two on the door, two down the corridor." Wands lowered as the team reluctantly retreated, leaving the two women alone within the quarantine wards. Nora reactivated them, sealing the room as a precaution. 

Bemused by the strangers' nonchalance with their own nudity, Aliyah called several sets of plain black shirts and cargo pants into existence on each cot. "Thank you," Aliyah spoke quietly in an effort to soothe the agitated one. "Please, if you wouldn't mind, I've brought you clothing." 

The three shared a look, tugging on clothes without any argument. Turning to the blonde as he tugged his shirt over his head, she noticed Malfoy still slept, even through all the mayhem and noise. Concerned colored her words. "Have you done something to him?"

Gaze flickering to Draco before returning to the nurse, the man acquiesced. "He was... disturbed by a memory. I blocked it and returned him to slumber." 

"I see. May I check on him, please?" Nora raised an eyebrow at Aliyah's request to the unknown creature, but the thing moved and allowed her to approach Malfoy's bed. Her wand hovered over him, finding nothing but a deep sleep. She shifted to scan the symbol that had appeared on his Dark Mark, only to find the Mark itself almost completely vanished. She gasped; there was no way to remove the Dark Lords mark, everyone knew that! And yet, only faint hints of the tattoo remained, barely noticeable. Her fingers hovered over the area in awe. 

"I wouldn't touch that," the blonde stated. "It's not finished." 

"What's not finished?" Nora started toward the bed, but the man blocked her. Rolling her eyes, she tried to peek around his body. 

"How are you able to... what are you?" Aliyah looked over the creature again, knowing there was no point in trying to scan him or the others. They read as alive but not human, that's it. 

He glanced at the two silent watchers, neither of which having moved since before the security team's ruckus. The female shrugged, while the other male inclined his head. They'd discussed what to tell the witches and wizards, recognizing how impossible their situation had become. It was only after choosing an explanation to give that they purposefully drew attention to the fact they were no longer pretending to be asleep. 

His words were hushed but clear. "We are weapons. We were caught in the magics of the Winchester's last encounter, and our forms were... altered. We are not human."

Nora snorted. "Well, duh!"

"Nora!" Aliyah reprimanded. 

"She's right, though." The female weapon, as it were, laughed as she interrupted. "I mean, we're clearly not supposed to be like this. An idiot could see that!" 

Aliyah thought over the information she'd seen from the scene of the attack. The Winchesters had been unarmed, aside from flasks of holy water and a regular pocket knife. "You're weapons? So you were on Sam, Dean, and Castiel prior to the incident in the woods?"

"Yes."

"That's it? Just 'yes'? God, it's like pulling teeth!" Nora threw her hands up in frustration. 

The female stood, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She motioned toward Nora. "She's right, ya know. We agreed to be more cooperative than this." Having gained the attention of both witches, the creature sighed. "We are, or were, weapons. Mr. Talk-Pale-and-Blonde was Castiel's angel blade, this delicious hunk o' man over here was the Colt, and I used to be Ruby's knife. We're not sure exactly what happened, being non-sentient objects until, I don't know, 24 hours or so? That's all we've got." 

Nora's eyes widened, flickering over the female's form in surprise. "You're, or you were, a knife? Seriously? That's hot." Her last words were muttered, but the slight blush that crept across her skin proved she hadn't meant to finish that thought out loud. 

"Call me Ruby, hun." Her hips rolled as she approached Nora, amused to see the witch flustered. 

"You are not Ruby." The correction came from the blonde, his brows down in a frown. 

"Yeah yeah," she waved him off. "Humans use names, babe. We need some. Who cares if it's been used before? Ruby isn't a unique name, ya know."

Considering her words, he nodded. "I would be Angel, by that logic. It is a name used by humans, if I'm not mistaken?" He directed his question toward Aliyah, who nodded. 

"Colt ain't too bad," muttered the until-now silent man. 

An awkward pause filled the room.

* * *

Draco woke to the sound of quiet conversation. His vision hazy with sleep, he shifted leg legs only to find a hand stilling his movement. Confused, he sat up on his elbows and blinked at the man who's fingers rested across his ankle. "You?"

"Draco," Aliyah rushed over from the table she'd been working at, automatically scanning him for any signs of discomfort or injury. "You're awake!"

"Uh, yeah?" He was at a loss. He vaguely remembered have a nightmare, and then nothing. Had he run to vomit in the toilet like most nights? Had he embarrassed himself by screaming in his sleep? The thought of anyone seeing his weakness sickened him. 

Nora saw his expression and patted Ruby on the arm. "I'll be right back," she murmured, moving over to Malfoy's area and catching his eye. "You slept through the night. Angel blocked the bad stuff." 

Bad stuff. Right. Draco examined the man, surprised to find those cold blue eyes gazing into him. He cleared his throat. "Oh, Angel is it? Thanks, I guess." 

"You are quite welcome... Draco." The way he said the name should've been a sin. All eyes darted to Angel in surprise. Draco arched a brow, instinctively wary of the verbal caress. Angel seemed to remember himself, his hand quickly removed from the ankle he'd been mindlessly caressing. "I am glad you were able to find rest."

A snicker had him turning to face Ruby. "Oh, come on! Real smooth, loverboy." She reached over and playfully shoved at Colt. "Maybe we should go get something to eat and give them some... alone time?" Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively. 

Colt shrugged. "I could use a bite. We haven't eaten since, well, being made human." 

Aliyah shared a look with Nora. The quarantine had been to protect everyone from the unknown non-humans until they could be evaluated for safety. In the past hour they'd reviewed information, done a few additional tests not traditionally used in a medical setting, and found that all three were reasonably safe to let loose. After all, knowing them to be objects, weapons rather than people, meant knowing what kinds of defensive spells might actually work to stop them in a bad situation. Colt had been good-natured enough to allow Nora to test several spells, agreeing that the witches and wizards had a right to know how to protect themselves. 

Nora nudged Ruby hard enough to make her stumble, laughing when she got a not-too-gentle punch in the arm in return. "Come on, I'll take you to the cafeteria." Colt trailed along after them, hands tucked into his back pockets. 

Aliyah returned her attention to Malfoy, noticing an odd look in his eye as he watched Angel. She cleared her throat, she handed over his wand and holster, speaking in code to her friend. "I have files to work on, the red folder?"

"No, you should focus on the green one." Draco's reply signaled that he wanted her to leave, everything was okay. He watched as she dipped her head and stood. He strapped his holster on, glad to feel his wand tucked safely within reach once again. Only a few of his team had access to his home; he wondered vaguely who retrieved it, knowing he owed them his thanks. 

Shifting his legs over the cot's edge, Draco realized he was still shirtless. Damn, if he'd noticed earlier he might've asked Aliyah to conjure him a shirt as well. He stood and grabbed a tissue from the side table and transfigured it into an off-white t-shirt. He'd had to settle for the plain garb; he'd never been great at details with transfiguration. 

Angel's gaze traveled over the wizard as he dressed, bewildered by his own reaction to the expanse of skin he could clearly see. He was unfamiliar with the sensations flowing through his body. 

Draco paused when he saw the look in the creature's eye. It was almost hungry, and largely familiar. Not sure how he felt about that. "So you're Angel, then? I assume you're not one; we would've been able to scan that."

"I was Castiel's protective implement, what you call an angel blade. We were each weapons on hand before you found me, us." He paused, frowning. "You touched me, little dragon, and I defended myself." Draco's hand automatically moved to his Dark Mark, but Angel gripped his wrist to prevent him from touching it. "It is being cleansed. Do not play with it again."

"Play with it?" Draco eyed the faded Mark, both confused and pleased to see it so pale. "Again? I didn't play with it." At the dry look he received, he laughed. "Okay, so maybe I experimented with it. It's not like I knew what you'd done."

"Indeed." 

Silence settled between them as Draco thought it all over. His stomach did a strange flip. "Little dragon?"

Angel hesitated. "I... believe you should talk to Castiel. There are things I cannot explain." 

Usually less obvious with his thoughts, Draco's curiosity showed clearly on his face. "Last I heard, he and the Winchesters were still unconscious." 

"I will wake Castiel. He will respond to my summons."

"...alrighty then, let's go." 

The two headed out of the room, shadowed by their own security detail. Jordan had assigned himself to guard the two; no one would chance the safety of Draco Malfoy.

Whether or not he was in danger remained to be seen.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione sat in the security office, an amused smile on the face as her fingers traced over the portkey she'd be presented. She had to admit, it was a brilliant idea. The ID badge had arrived shortly after she'd messaged them regarding Draco Malfoy's request for assistance, her name and face printed on the magicked card along with the day and time of departure. She'd been called to the security office regarding its activation; the attached parchment had explained that her blood was needed to activate the portkey, as she was the only intended guest of the American Council. Clearly, they weren't taking the chance that she'd smuggle anyone else along! 

Clipping the badge to her jacket, she checked the time. Five minutes. Her Muggle clothing had been chosen to assist her in fitting into the more modernized atmosphere of the American wizarding community. She had to admit that it hadn't surprised her when they'd found out that robes were largely ceremonial in the New World. Her soft grey slacks and jacket were offset by the rich burgundy turtleneck she'd chosen to wear underneath. 

When her departure time struck, Hermione placed her hand over the name badge and felt the familiar tug of the portkey as she was swept across the ocean. Her breath caught in her throat as the travel stretched; so too did her nerves. Panic began to surface, her heart racing in the chest. Her mind started to slip, edging toward unconsciousness. 

Landing with a stumble, Hermione's senses came crashing back as she gasped for breath. A firm hand on her elbow kept her upright. "Easy, ma'am. Deep breaths!" 

She slowly removed her hand from the badge, a quick self-review telling her she'd made it in one piece. She noticed the room she'd arrived in was clearly secured by a team of Aurors. Wait, they weren't called Aurors here, were they? Regardless, she wasn't surprised to find that they'd arranged such an arrival point; after all, the Americans were very protective of their secrets, including the location of their offices. 

The man who'd helped steady her removed his hand when it was clear she wasn't going to collapse. This witch did better than most after such a long trip; he'd even helped retrieve Malfoy from the floor a time or two, not that he'd ever tell that tale and live. "So, Miss Granger. We're glad you could come; Malfoy said you'd be the best help we could ask for, given the situation." 

"Well," she replied thoughtfully, "it must be serious if he's bothered to contact me. I haven't heard from him in quite some time." Not since she'd helped him buy the Muggle plane ticket that got him to America after the war. Not since she'd watched him run from them all. 

"I'm sure you'll understand once you've been briefed," the man said as he directed her through the door and down the hallways. "I'm Christopher Jordan, by the way. Call me Jordan, though. Everyone else does."

"Thank you, Jordan. And please, call me Hermione. I feel like I might be here for a while." 

He smirked, shaking his head. "Damn right. Malfoy's gotten himself into it this time."

She was concerned, but the amusement in her guide's eyes calmed her. Sometimes she forgot just how much trouble the magical community could get itself into regularly. And without the aid of a Dark Lord! 

They reached a corridor with several meeting rooms, each labeled with a letter. Jordan stopped by Room H and opened the door, motioning for Hermione to enter. The room was large and mostly undecorated. White walls were accentuated by warm wood molding, several beams bisecting the ceiling to form a compass rose. A large honey-colored table surrounded by chairs took up the majority of the room, though only two chairs held occupants. 

Draco Malfoy surprised her. He sat forward, one arm draping over the table while the other scribbled notes onto a spiral notebook. His blond hair seemed messier than he'd ever kept it before and his skin sun-kissed for once, but his clothing was the biggest shock. A loose white shirt and jeans. Since when did Malfoy dress so... normal? Nearby, a slender man with nearly white blond hair and the palest skin she'd ever seen stood quietly; he seemed to be watching Malfoy's every flick of the pen. 

"Malfoy, she made it." 

Jordan interrupted her perusal of her old classmate, and an expression of relief flickered across Malfoy's face before it was was quickly replaced by a laid-back smile. "Took you long enough, Hermione." 

She ignored his snarky tone and shrugged. "Well, you know. Time differences, red tape, and all that jazz." 

Malfoy nodded. "Fair enough." 

Suddenly aware of the small audience to their reunion, Hermione raised a brow. Jordan decided that was his sign to bow out. "Alright, I'm out. I've got Mac and Stevens assigned, but you know where to reach me."

"Yeah, yeah," Malfoy waved off his friend. Once the door closed, he pulled out his wand and cast a quick spell that Hermione couldn't quite follow. She felt the room shift; he'd set some kind of wards, probably for privacy. Tucking his wand away again, he motioned for Hermione to sit across from him. 

She sat, her eyes traveling to his silent companion. A bodyguard? No, there'd be no reason for Malfoy to have someone protecting him. The man seemed almost non-human, giving her the same vaguely odd feeling that a vampire or Veela might. He must have been involved in whatever trouble Malfoy had found for himself. "So... what am I here for, Malfoy?"

"Draco," he corrected and chuckled at her wide eyes. "I'm far less uptight than I was... before." His pause reminded them both of their dubious past, the things he'd left behind. "I wrote you before I could talk to Angel here, so your trip might be a bust." 

"You'll need her help, little dragon. I told you-"

"-that she knows more than me, she'll solve everything, blah blah blah!" Draco brushed off the other man's words with sarcasm and a hint of frustration. He must be Angel, then. 

What had he called Draco? "Little dragon? Is that a pet name or something?" 

She watched as Draco tossed an annoyed look over his shoulder before responding. "Or something. Look, let me start from the beginning."

* * *

Sitting back in her chair, Hermione's mind raced over the information Draco had shared. She'd known American had wilder magic, but the amount of danger and death was staggering! And to think, Muggles ran around hunting down dangerous creatures! Shaking her head, she rubbed her temples. 

"That's how I felt for the first few months." Draco's good humor spoke warmly of the home he'd created. "You get used to it, though."

"Really?"

"Yeah, though I have to admit that the whole angels-and-demons thing threw me off. I mean, I thought Voldemort was bad! Shit!" 

She glanced at Angel, who'd remained unreasonably quiet throughout Draco's story. "So why did you mark Draco? I mean, you clearly could've removed your mark as soon as you recognized his lack of bad intentions, couldn't you?"

Astonishment lit Draco's face, and he immediately turned to look at Angel. His eyes narrowed. "That's a good question."

"As I said in the infirmary, I initially intended to banish the evil I believed to be present near my person. Once I recognized my miscalculation, the intent still stood as reasonable; you will be cleansed of your Dark Mark prior to the removal of my sigil." 

"Hmm," Hermione tilted her head. "But do you regularly interfere with that kind of thing? I mean, what if he'd wanted to keep his Mark." 

"Hermione," Draco growled in warning. It went unheeded. 

"He did not."

"But what if he did?"

"He did not."

Tossing up her hands, she surrendered. "Fine. You're right."

"Of course I am correct. The information was clearly available in his mind."

"My mind?" The quiet question held an edge of anger. 

Angel responded with his usual cool tone. "Your desire to be free of your past is closest to the surface of your mind and is most easily accessible." 

"You can read minds?" Hermione cut in quickly before Draco could go off in anger.

"I... do not know. I have only touched Draco Malfoy with this body." 

Wasn't that interesting? Ignoring her desire to explore the strange look Draco gave upon Angel's answer, she resumed her questions. "Do you believe you could do it again, with someone else?"

"Perhaps?"

"Try me, then." 

Angel seemed to look for approval from Draco; receiving a sharp nod, he reached out and gently clasped Hermione's wrist. With no further warning, he entered her mind and browsed the surface thoughts most readily available. "You are quite comfortable with Fred Weasley and George Weasley. I can feel the deeper links to memories prior to your recent liaison, and-"

"Never mind!" Hermione jerked away, blushing. "That's enough, I mean." 

"I apologize. You seem embarrassed. They were at the forefront of your thoughts; I did not mean to barge into private matters."

Draco shook his head. "I never thought you'd be the type." He ignored her as she cringed. "I've heard they have an interesting preference for-"

"Draco Malfoy! If you continue that thought, so help me, I will hex you to oblivion!" Her shout left them in silence for a few moments. This was so out of hand!

Even as the weapon of a socially inept creature like Castiel, Angel recognized that the conversation had gotten off topic. "I apologize, but this is not important. The blockage in your mind is the reason I insisted that Hermione would be of assistance." 

"What?" they asked in unison. 

"You have a block in your mind. I found it when I assisted you, as you were experiencing that unpleasant memory."

At Hermione's questioning look, Draco filled her in. "I had a nightmare, apparently. I have them sometimes. Normal, ya know?" They both knew just how easily the war came back, especially in the night. 

"I assisted in relieving the images that disturbed your sleep, but I found a strange block in your mind while I was there. It felt familiar, as if-" 

A rustle of wings and another man stood next to Angel. Hermione and Draco both jumped to their feet, wands at the ready. The stranger clapped Angel on the back. "Uh uh, it's not nice to tell others' secrets." 

Taking in the otherworldly feel of this new man, Hermione lowered her wand. "You're Castiel?"

"No! Me? Ha!" The man's eyes twinkled mischievously. "My brother's too uptight for his own good. Me, I'm more of a fun-loving guy myself." 

Angel scanned the man from head to toe, his brow furrowed. "I do not understand your presence here. You are dead."

"Nope, totally not dead!" He plopped down into a vacant chair and kicked up his feet. "I'm Loki, or I guess you knew me as Gabriel. And you, dear my troublemaker, need to keep your big mouth shut before the little dragon here gets wind of our little secret."

"Your secret?" Hermione eyed the angel as he lounged there, acting as if nothing strange were going on. "What, do you plan to end the world or something?"

"Or something." 

The lights flickered wildly before plunging them all into darkness. An alarm rang out, and a team of uniformed witches and wizards burst into the room with a flurry of movement. As the lights quickly returned, Hermione found herself facing a dozen wands, her hands automatically held up in surrender, her mind racing to figure out what had just happened. She was alone. 

Draco, Angel, and Gabriel had disappeared.


	10. Chapter 10

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes held brisk business all afternoon, as was often the case. Fred tossed a cheeky smile at the little kids caught up in one of the many tester pranks he'd arranged by their schoolyard-friendly display. Two girls stood there giggling at their mate, a poor boy sporting a sudden mustache curled up tight at the ends. It'd fall off in a bit, after all. Or he could shave. 

Shaking his head, Fred returned his attention to the notes he'd scribbled. The new candy he brainstormed would quickly become a success, if he could just figure out how to make the changes temporary and easily reversible. His first batch had required help from an old classmate who now worked at St. Mungo's. The hospital visit had taken Fred back to step one, resolved to find a solution that didn't require medical assistance next go around. 

George sat in their storeroom, his nimble fingers working to refresh their stock of Skiving Snackboxes. They'd spent the past few days reworking the various goodies used for the ever-popular packages, pouring their energy into work while anxiously awaiting the weekend. 

A sly grin lit George's face as he thought about The Plan. Hermione had been surprisingly pliant in their hands, her willingness to explore the long-ignored chemistry between herself and the twins more than they'd hoped for. After months of trying to convince her, via Harry, to go to dinner with them, Fred and George had been close to rethinking The Plan. 

The Plan had originally been formed during a drunken debate on the finer points of seducing a witch. George had quietly mentioned the impossibility of luring in an intelligent, brilliant, bloody spectacular witch like Hermione. Fred had immediately grown thoughtful, his mind reviewing the idea of her, in their arms, in their bed, in their lives. Permanently. Sobering on the realization that they both desired more than sex from Hermione, they'd spent the twilight hours hatching The Plan. 

George checked the time and tucked away the last snackbox before stretching his arms with a yawn. Just two more days, and it'd be Friday again. Surely they'd be able to convince Hermione to go out again; maybe she'd be willing to settle for takeaway and a movie at home? He groaned with frustration as his thoughts immediately turned to her naked and eager in their arms. One step at a time, please. 

"Oi! Are you sneaking Daydream Charms while I'm slaving out front?" Fred snorted at the sheepish expression on his brother's face. "Come on, help me close up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm coming!" 

The two circled the shop, rounding up fallen merchandise and deactivating tester products for the night. The shop's bell had George popping out from behind the display he'd been working on. "Sorry, mate, we're closed. Oh, Harry! Wasn't expecting you!"

The two shared a quick hug in greeting, and the shorter wizard seemed... off. "Hey," he muttered quietly. 

The twins shared a look. Something was wrong. Fred flicked his wand to lock up while George led Harry up to their loft. They both watched as Harry paced their living room, clearly agitated. They waited for him to speak, not sure they wanted to know what had him so unsettled. Hell, he'd faced Voldemort! Dementors! Death Eaters! Their mother in a snit! He never showed fear, regardless of the danger. 

Harry finally sunk down on their couch, chucking a packet of parchments onto their coffee table. George grabbed the papers for a read while Fred turned to Harry with confusion. "What's wrong, Harry? Did something happen to Ron? We know he's been in the Ukraine for a few weeks. Is he okay?"

"What? Oh, no, Ron's fine." Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it worse than the usual unruliness he wore. 

A gasp from George made Fred jerk around, watching as his brother collapsed onto the couch. His eyes will still glued to the parchments, quickly flicking back and forth to read and reread whatever news they held. 

Before Fred could question his brother, Harry spoke. "Hermione's been detained. In America."

"What?!" 

"Why?!"

His eyes swept over his friends, and he cringed. "It's my fault. I sent her over to assist with... a case. She left Saturday evening via portkey, and now they've arrested her." Deciding to go for broke, he quickly tossed privacy wards around the Weasley's loft. His eyes grew bright, angry. "Draco Malfoy requested her assistance, and then he went missing."

"Malfoy? But I thought he was-"

"-traveling the continent with family?"

"Nope," Harry answered with a resounding pop. "His family's been lying, trying to keep up appearances and all that nonsense. He ran off to America shortly after Voldemort's fall... with Hermione's help."

"He... What did he need her help for? I thought Malfoy hated Hermione? Why would she help him? Why would he even need her help?" Fred spoke, knowing the same thoughts crossed George's mind. 

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. She helped him in secret; I only found out it was her doing after the dust settled. The Malfoys thought he'd been kidnapped or something; apparently, he'd kept his plans secret from everyone."

Silence fell, awkward and painful. "Did he... Malfoy asked for Hermione's help... again? With what, exactly?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "She contacted the American Council and arranged a way over, and they accepted her request. Those bloody fools wouldn't let Kingsley over for anything, for months now! But they accepted her request in less than five minutes!" Bursting with frustration, Harry rose from the couch and returned to pacing. 

George set the stack of parchments on the table and leaned forward, elbows resting on knees, hands joined under his chin as he brainstormed. The documents hadn't said much, other than accusing Hermione of kidnapping and malicious intent. There was something missing, even there. The details were vague, almost nonexistent. Did the Americans even know for sure the Malfoy was missing? Maybe he'd hidden himself, playing some twisted joke on an old enemy. No, he'd left them all alone for years. There had to be something else. If only they could see Hermione, check out the situation firsthand. 

Fred swept up the papers, skimming them quickly himself. This was ridiculous! How could they accuse one of the Golden Trio, saviors of the wizarding world, of having malicious intent? Did they even know how close Voldemort came to gaining over them all? As if he'd have stopped with Britain! 

"We need to go help her." George stared at a point in the distance, eyes unfocused. "She needs someone on her side." 

"Regulations require the Ministry to await further instruction before-" 

Harry was cut off by Fred's glare. "Do you know where the American Council is located?"

Eyeing the twins, the younger man nodded and pulled out another parchment, this one small and handwritten. Hermione's neat script spelled out coordinates. "This is as close as we can tell. They've got their wizarding communities better hidden than us, at least from other witches and wizards. Unplottable. Hermione said she believed that they remained near Salem, Massachusetts. The largest open community lives there, mingling with muggles."

On the mention of muggles, George leapt from his seat and shouted. "That's it!"

"What's it?" 

His voice carried from the bedroom he'd run to, muffled thunks and shuffling echoing down the hall. "Muggle travel! They can't stop us from flying over on an aeroplane!"

Fred smacked his head. "Of course!" He raced to his own room, tucking clothing and a few magical items into a bag. 

Harry nodded to himself. They had a good point; muggle travel would be undetectable as long as they avoided using magic during the trip. While the twins packed, he tossed a handful of floo powder into their fireplace and floo-called Minister Kingsley at home. The older man answered immediately, and Harry wasted no time. "We need to order two tickets for flight to Salem, muggle travel."

Having spent the past couple of days trying to find a way to help the witch they'd sent to America, the minister was more than happy to hear Harry's excited tone. There was finally some hope. "Very well, I'll make the arrangements and contact you immediately." 

The green fire died down, and Harry plopped back onto the couch. This had to work. It just had to!


	11. Chapter 11

Draco panted, the air knocked out of him when he'd hit the wall. Again. His fingers stung from the jolt, and his wand had flown out of them the minute he'd been struck. Sweat dampened his shirt as it stuck to his chest and back uncomfortably. A gentle cough had him glaring at the couch. "What?!"

"I do not see why you would continue to repeat your actions as if expecting alternative results." Angel sat still as a statue, keeping the same position he had the past couple of days. It seemed to irk Draco, not that he'd ever choose his actions based on such a thing. "Perhaps you should rest. You have grown... overwrought." 

The blond narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you should get off your bloody arse and help me break these wards!" 

"I am not capable-"

"I KNOW!" Draco shouted, dragging himself to his feet. His whole body ached from the constant attempts he'd made to break through the wards, something he was beginning to expect was impossible for a wizard like himself. 

Frustrated, he swept up his wand from under the edge of the couch and shoved it back into its holster. He tugged off his sweaty shirt and plunked himself down next to Angel, ignoring the unhelpful git as he rotated his sore shoulder in small circles, trying to work out the kinks. 

Angel remained quiet, but Draco could feel his eyes on him. The hand on his shoulder came as no surprise. "Here, let me." Turning Draco to face away from him, Angel's fingers gently pressed and rubbed at the tension muscles, slowing relaxing them. It had become their pattern since they'd been unceremoniously dropped in their secluded prison. 

The space appeared to be a flat, a studio apartment tucked god knows where. The kitchenette was stocked, and there was a bed and couch situated in the small space. The only oddity was the complete lack of doors or windows; they'd been stuck in the room for a couple of days, at best guess, and they were still no closer to finding a way out. Draco spent hours at a time trying to magic their way free, and Angel sat quietly until he could offer his assistance in easing the soreness Draco caused for himself. 

Draco didn't bother holding in a groan as a particularly tight knot suddenly loosened. The fingers on his shoulders jolted. "Sorry, you got a good one." 

Draco's rough voice made the other man's pulse race; he could almost hear it in the quiet of the room. Tucking away the strange reaction for later review, he relaxed as Angel returned to his ministrations. His hands drifted down the wizard's back slowly, fingers testing and teasing out knots down his spine. 

God, he was hard! Draco ignored his aching problem, the unfortunate side effect of exhaustion and a good massage. He hoped the angel blade was clueless about sex and all, because things were very quickly becoming awkward. Clearing his throat, he pulled away from Angel and thanked him. "That's much better, thanks." 

The nearly white eyes gazing at him felt like fire rather than the ice they mimicked. Angel returned to his perch, sitting tall and straight once again. "You are welcome, little dragon."

"Speaking of," Draco turned to look at Angel, intending to bring up whatever secrets the creature was keeping. He paused when he noticed Angel's tight fists resting on his hard thighs. The man looked wound up, like a spring ready to be sprung. Interesting. "Pizza for dinner?" At Angel's confused expression, Draco chuckled and slid off the couch to heat the oven. He'd been grateful for all the experience with Muggle appliances he'd gained from moving to America; he couldn't imagine his younger self trying to cook a thing! He rummaged through the drawers for a knife or pizza cutter, whatever he could find. 

"You desire me?" The faint question was spoken against his ear as Angel's body caged Draco against the counter, arms blocking him in place on either side. His heart thudded in his chest, shock and arousal swimming in his blood. Draco's fingers gripped the counter's edge like a lifeline as a hot breath brushed his neck. "I believe that is what I have seen. I believe... I desire you." 

"Stop." Draco clenched his jaw against the onslaught of feeling those words ignited. He stood frozen against the counter, trying to regain control. Why did Angel trigger this reaction in him? Why couldn't he breathe? "You're not human. You can't feel... desire." 

"You are incorrect." Angel made the statement against Draco's neck, inexplicably drawn to taste him. He resisted, intrigued and confused by the sensation of being aroused. Having a body had become distinctly different from being an object, a weapon. He had instincts tugging at his mind, pushing him to act. But on what? If this was not desire, Angel had no idea what this strange compulsion came from. 

Feeling cornered, Draco shoved Angel's hands from the counter and stalked out of reach. His magic licked his skin, heightening the heady lust to nearly painful levels. He headed straight for the bathroom, locking the door and immediately turning the cold water on full blast. Stripping quickly, he stepped under the freezing spray and hissed. His hand flew to his rigid cock, roughly jerking himself off in seconds. Sweet Circe's tit! What the fuck was that?

Shuddering in the cold shower until his magic calmed and his skin cooled, Draco tried to reason out why he'd been so overwhelmed by Angel's behavior. It wasn't the first time a man had come onto him, but it was definitely the first time he'd lost his cool completely since Hogwarts. How humiliating! 

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. "May I use the restroom, Draco?"

"Just a minute!" He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before collecting his pile of clothes. A quick scourgify would make them wearable again, but he preferred to lay his clothes out during the process. It was the only way his rusty cleaning skills could do the job; he'd grown quite comfortable with washing machines, especially with their ability to get things done with little effort on his part. 

Bracing himself, Draco opened the door to find Angel standing off to the side, arms wrapped around himself, nerves clearly frazzled. "It's all yours," he said awkwardly, turning toward the bed with his pile of laundry. 

Angel slipped quietly into the bathroom. As the door clicked shut, though, he felt the remnants of a sexual charge in the room. His eyes flew to the shower. What magic had Draco cast in there to leave the room heavy and hot? He leaned against the counter, scanning his own face in the mirror. He was flushed, his eyes still dilated from the wave of energy Draco had sent into their shared space. How had he pushed an orgasm through Angel's body without a single touch? 

Shuddering, he decided a shower would do his body good. It took ten minutes of fiddling with the knobs to get the shower on and warm. Pleased with the result, Angel carefully peeled off his clothing and folded it on the counter. Stepping under the water made him sighed contentedly; he could understand now the groan Draco had made when he'd been massaging tense muscles until they loosened. 

The act of relaxing was very satisfying. He could see how he might've mistaken this feeling for desire. Something tickled at the edge of his consciousness. He could feel energy licking across his skin, telling him the truth of his situation. 

He desired the little dragon, and it was going to destroy them both.


	12. Chapter 12

_Anger rides him, carries him forward. Each breath is fire, sulfur and ash burning his lungs. Each heartbeat pumps lava through his veins._

_His vision clears as time passes. Yes, this will be alright. This may be for the better, they were faulty anyway. Yes, he can see how this is a good thing now._

_Blood coats his hands. How did that get there? Oh, of course. He pets the broken form before him, content. Little pet always provides him with exactly what he needs, even in death. Yes, she'd pulled him away from the meddling muggles, kept him safe. She gave her life to him in his anger, the sweet little thing. Too bad she didn't wait until he was truly awake. Such a waste. Could've made another one, maybe a good one this time._

_If dark lords weren't so paranoid, he wouldn't have so many half-assed horcruxes on his hands. Useless, the whole lot! Oh, wait, don't throw pet on the ground. There, there. So pretty when she's sleeping._

_Hands are rinsed quickly, dried on his robes. Flicking through pages, yes. This last one was almost perfect. So much promise before the muggles interrupted. He'd just need another pet, one willing to do anything for him. Help him. Love him. Worship him._

_Die for him._

_Almost willing, almost perfect. He knew just what to do next time, yes he did. And then he'll live forever. Fools before him never did realize the truth. Demons are a man's best friend, if you pull the right strings._


	13. Chapter 13

Fred shuddered with relief when his feet touched the concrete outside of the airport. Being cooped up in the muggle tin box, flying through the sky for hours... That was something else. It was nowhere near as enjoyable as flying on his broom; in fact, having no control over the movements of the plane through turbulence and bad weather had made him panic a bit. George looked worse, though. 

Of the two, George knew he was rattled far worse than Fred. Being stuck in that contraption without magic had caused him to fight urge to apparate to safety. The fact that his apparation would most assuredly cause the entire thing to fall from the sky barely stopped him; he knew, logically, that his magic couldn't be used while surrounded by so much delicate muggle technology, but his anxiety wouldn't let him simply sleep through the flight. He couldn't breathe! The damned space was so crowded and small and oppressive. How the hell did Malfoy make it across the pond like this?

Thankfully, Harry had helped them secure shrunken luggage that was muggle-safe. They each had a small case disguised as a deck of cards tucked away in their pocket for later. The muggle money in George's pocket would assist them in getting a hotel room, as well; he'd been insistent that Fred sucked with money and needed to leave that side of the rescue mission to him. 

That's what it all was, after all. A rescue mission for Hermione. 

A shuttle with the name of their hotel pulled up, and the twins climbed in and rode quietly to the large building in downtown Salem. They'd decided to plunk themselves deep in the thick of things; how else would they find the American Council, if not by mingling with the intriguing community of the popular town? The Salem Inn sat smack dab in the middle of it all, and that's where they'd have to start. 

After George checked them in, they strode down the hallways until coming across their room. Fred snorted at the decor, amused by the muggles' choice to theme a room around the circus. "Seriously? Do you think Harry-"

"-set us up, on purpose? I'm betting he had a hand in it. Sneaky git!" George eyed the ceiling draped in fabric to imitate a Big Top. The two beds of their room were both covered in loud, obnoxious colors much like their shop. A few vintage posters for circus events covered the walls, but the side tables and dresser seemed quite normal comparatively. 

Fred popped his head out from the bathroom he'd been scoping out. "Oi! The bathroom's got a Jacuzzi!"

"Sweet!" George glanced in and nodded. "So Harry wasn't a complete git, then." Shaking his head as his brother snickered, George pulled out his suitcase and set it on the bed. He pulled out his wand from the expanded pocket of his jacket and warded the room quickly to avoid interruptions. They wanted to keep their magic to a minimum, so he worked quickly to unshrink and unpack his things. 

Fred joined him immediately, dumping his things out into the dresser. They didn't bother with packing truly separate luggage; being so similar in build and style, they'd just shoved enough clothing for them both into whichever case was available. Fred did manage to tuck a notebook into his things, one with innocuous notes on his latest project. He'd have to be smart about it, but there was no real reason not to continue working on his baby while they were here. They weren't going to find the Council for a few days, to be sure. 

Realizing his brother had grown quiet and still, Fred eyed George. The other seemed a bit lost, a look he'd been wearing off and on since Harry's announcement that Hermione was detained. "Hey, Gred."

A small chuckled answered. "Yes, Forge?"

"We'll be okay. Hermione isn't in any real danger; she's just stuck a bit, that's all. We'll find her and help convince these Yanks to let her go. No big deal!"

George stretched back, laying himself across his bed with an arm tossed over his eyes. "Right. No big deal."

Since when did George get so melodramatic? Fred checked the clock by his bed and mentally calculated how long it'd been since their in-flight meal. Long enough. "Come on, let's go grab a bite and get a look around." He tugged his brother up from the other bed and quickly released their wards on the way out to find dinner.

* * *

"Muggle, I bet." Fred whispered to George as they wandered through a strip of Salem affectionately called Witch Way. They'd found a handful of muggle new age shops, the kind Harry had briefed them on before their trip. Nice trinkets and interesting bits of stuff, but nothing really magical. 

Walking into the Witch City Consignment and Thrift Store was a completely different story. They shared a look as the wash of magic tickled them upon entering the place. The shop looked a bit like you'd expect, odds and ends tucked on various shelves and tables. A collection of crystals and amulets rested under a glass case lining one wall, while bookshelves full of old and new books lined the other side of the space. 

The woman standing behind the counter looked far more normal than most of the people they'd encountered in their small trip through the area. Instead of robes or that god-awful tie dye mess many of the New Age muggles worn, the store owner's appearance was surprisingly normal in her well-worn jeans and a concert t-shirt for some band called the All American Rejects. Fred caught her eyeing them appreciatively, and he gave her a cheeky smile before nudging George. 

They wandered over to the counter and waited for a customer to be rung up. The cashier tucked a flyer into their bag. "Don't forget to check out the Samhain festival next week!" She waved them off and turned her attention to the twins. "Is there something I can help you two _fine_ gentlemen with?"

"Oh, we're just having a look around-"

"-this lovely establishment. We're on holiday-"

"-from the UK."

Her eyes flickered back and forth, amusement glittering at their antics. "Well, you picked a good time for a holiday! Are you pagans as well?"

George's brow rose, but he'd expected the question. Salem had become a muggle pagan Mecca, and pretending to be pagans was an ideal cover for their presence. "Yep! We wanted to see what all the fuss was about, heard this place was brilliant during Samhain." He could feel his twin's confusion but ignored it. "Can I?" He motioned toward a flyer and she nodded. 

A main ritual would be held near their hotel in Salem Park, including a huge bonfire and fire-dancers. Other events were scheduled throughout the day and night, and many of the pagan stores had apparently decided to stay open overnight for the boom in business that would accompany the holiday. 

"My coven is leading this year," the friendly woman added after they seemed to read the flyer through. "We take turns with the other local groups; I think Foxglove Circle led at Beltane."

"Interesting," Fred murmured as he skimmed over the events again. A few sounded very much like something they'd expect back home in Diagon Alley, rather than in a muggle town. "We'll have to swing by then." Casting another bright smile her way, he directed his brother toward a display in the back. Other customers milled around, and the woman returned to her duties by the register with a small sigh. 

"What's going on?" 

George folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. "The muggle pagans are having a celebration. Remember what Harry said, about muggles having a bunch of similar practices and rituals? Well, it looks like Samhain is a big one for this lot." He ran a hand through his hair, gazing off for a moment. Shaking himself back into focus, he continued. "Anyway, I think we might find some actual witches and wizards at the thing. They supposedly pass quite regularly in this community."

Nodding, Fred picked up a pretty glass jar and pretended to examine it. "How will we detect them, though?"

"Did you feel the magic when we walked in here?"

"...yeah?"

George closed his eyes and hovered a hand over the collection of jars and bottles next to them. He plucked a small, nondescript vial from the shelf and wiggled it before smiling. "I think we'll be able to figure something out."

Fred took the vial and frowned. He concentrated on the thing and felt a small blip of familiarity. "Potion bottle?"

"Used, I'm guessing." They tucked the vial back on the shelf and rummaged around separately just to see if anything interesting would turn up. 

George found an old book on the history of Salem's supposedly ancient magical community; it seemed to be written by a muggle, but some of the pages he thumbed through had hints of the wizarding world he knew. 

The twins met at the front and checked out, Fred adding a bobcat's tail and ear set to the purchase while ignoring a questioning look from George. The cashier handed over their bag, but not before scribbling a set of numbers across the back with a wink. They hid their confusion until leaving the shop. 

"What is that? Arithmancy?"

George laughed. "Bloody hell! Really?"

"Well, why else would she write down an equation on our receipt?"

Shaking his head, George led his brother back toward their hotel. The sun had set, and they needed to plan for how to locate the wizarding community of the quirky town without outing themselves in the process. In their room, he used the telephone on their dresser to explain the finer points of telecommunications in the muggle world. Arithmancy, ha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The locations in Salem are a mix of real and made up stuff. My WiFi at the cafe was slow, so I gave up on looking up the actual layout of the city. However, as a pagan I can attest to the fact there are plenty of new age stops and witchy museums in town; it's a popular location during festivals, too. Take all people and places with a bucket of fictional salt, because I'm not a local.


	14. Chapter 14

Hector Stevens loved his daughter more than anything in the world. A college grad, she'd moved to California last summer to follow her dreams and he hadn't had the heart to stop her. She had tickets to fly back for Yule this year, but it'd been months since he'd last seen his baby girl. 

The young woman sitting across from him on her cot reminded him of sweet little Sarah. The witch had her nose in a book again, almost finished with the random mystery novel he'd dropped off last night with her dinner. Miss Granger had thanked him meekly and quickly eaten her meal so that he could leave with the dinner tray. 

Stevens still didn't believe this girl had anything to do with Malfoy's disappearance. Something about her just screamed innocent, but that was neither here nor there. Hopefully the team would locate their missing man and she'd be on her way home soon. 

The door creaked as it was opened for him, and Stevens nodded to the guard before letting himself be disarmed to enter the space, his wand tucked into the other man's belt. As the door latched closed, Hermione marked her page and smiled. "Good evening, Mr. Stevens."

"Hello, Miss Granger." He set her dinner down on the small table by her cot and relaxed into the chair provided for his visits. He'd been designated her handler since she'd been detained; they didn't trust anyone with less experience to interact with the unknown witch until they could figure out how she'd made Malfoy disappear. He tugged on his short beard out of habit. "Finished that Cornwell book already?"

Hermione shook her head softly, shifting to sit at the edge of her cot. "I've been taking my time reading it, since I wasn't sure if you'd have anything new for me tonight." She tugged the cover off of her tray, sniffing the mess hall food before shrugging and unrolling her silverware.

The old man grinned at her wrinkled nose as she tasted the over-salted soggy green beans that accompanied her meal. "Well, if you eat all your veggies, I might have a couple more books for you." 

"I might make do without," she grumbled, but her tone held a hint of laughter. As she eat, Stevens chatted about the weather and local news; he never talked about anything substantial, but he noticed a few days ago that she appreciated the small talk. The girl must be lonely tucked in the bowels of the Council compound. 

As she finished eating, he took her tray to the door and swapped it with someone outside. She watched as he was handed a small stack of books and a board game. Checkers? 

Noticing her inquisitive look, he handed over the books first. "These are the next two in that series, I believe. I assume you're enjoying it?"

"Yes, it's very lively! I particularly love the way Cornwell explains the evidence; it reminds me of how amazing muggle science is, even without magic." 

"I agree. My daughter took biology and chemistry in college, and the amount of knowledge they've put together on the inner workings of the non-magical world are just amazing!" 

Hermione's face lit up the same way his Sarah's did when she was excited. "I still can't believe that your schools combine so much muggle study into school! I mean, it's wonderful! I wish we'd had more than just a bit of muggle studies; it would've been so enlightening to see how chemistry could be applied to Potions class and whatnot."

"True, but to be fair... Your school managed to teach you far more magic in a short period of time by ignoring all of the extra muggle stuff. My daughter had to have a tutor to get herself ready for the proficiency testing through the Council; fewer of us bother with the tests, but the certifications definitely help with high-level magical employment." 

Hermione made a mental note of this tidbit. If she ever made it home, she had lots of little details about the wizarding attitudes of America that she wanted to share with Harry. The differences were staggering! She stirred from her musings as Mr. Stevens unfolded the board game and pulled out the pieces to place across the squares. "Are you going to play checkers with me?"

"I thought you might enjoy some entertainment." Really, he couldn't imagine how stir crazy the poor girl must feel. A week in solitary with little interaction could drive a strong man a little wild. 

"Oh, I'd love some company!" She clapped excitedly. "Thank you so much, Mr. Stevens!" 

"Call me Hector, hun. When you call me mister, I feel like an old fart!"

Laughing, Hermione nodded. "Hector, then. Thank you."

They spent the next few hours playing muggle checkers and discussing everything and nothing at all. The girl really was like his daughter, in so many ways. If spending a few hours with her made her stay more bearable, he was glad to stick around until lights out.

* * *

"So how long have you known Malfoy?" 

The question gave Hermione pause. Hector had been kind enough to keep her company for hours at a time each night, but this was the first time he'd mentioned Draco Malfoy or his absence directly. She'd come to realize that they were close, part of the same squad or team or something; surnames seemed to be commonly used by most of the Council people she'd come across, but it still threw her to hear them treat her ex-classmate's name so casually. No hint of deference or animosity colored their tone, as if they really didn't know his past. Then again, that was the point of moving to America she supposed. 

She answered openly. "Honestly, we've known each other since we were eleven. We both attended the same school, in the same year. He and I... didn't get along most of the time. Too different, you could say. At the end of our final year, though, we more or less set aside our differences. He moved here, and we didn't really stay in touch." She wrinkled her nose. "We weren't ever friends, really, but we stopped hating one another." 

Hector seemed to measure her response, nodding to himself. "I know he came here on a plane. Said he'd had someone help him run off and all that. Was that someone you?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm surprised he told anyone that much."

"Well, it's been a while. And he didn't tell us much, to be honest. That boy keeps his secrets closer than a good hand." At her raised brow, he smiled. "Hand of cards, as in poker?"

"Oh, right." She rolled her eyes. Americans used so many colloquialisms that it was almost as if they spoke a different language. 

Hector leaned forward and spoke in a quiet tone. "Look, Malfoy told me he'd gotten help from a muggleborn witch who was, to quote him, 'bloody brilliant'. He said he needed an out of a bad situation, and that witch had helped him escape without a trace. All he's ever said about her was that he owed her more than she knew."

"Oh!" Eyes wide, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. 

Seeing that his guess was correct by her reaction, he sighed. "Hun, I'm not sure what he ran from per se. I know about all the Voldemort hubbub, because I'm not a complete idiot like some of these greenhorns and actually read the news... But it's all very vague. The thing about Malfoy is his privacy. Getting that boy to talk about his past is like pulling teeth, but a soldier recognizes trauma when he sees it in another."

"Is he...?" She didn't know how to ask, but the old man seemed to understand her silent question anyway. 

"He's mostly okay. He has nightmares, though, and he gets jumps sometimes when we have to clear up darker magics from a scene. Was he close to... whatever fallout you had overseas?"

Fallout. Right. She was amazed the Americans talked so casually about the near-collapse of wizarding society in Voldemort's hands. "He... his family ended up involved. They were stuck in a bad way, you could say." She hesitated to share more, not wanting to take away Draco's choice to keep his past to himself. 

Hector appreciated her unwillingness to share the boy's secrets. No wonder he'd trusted her to help him escape to America. "The Dark Lord tortured him. That much I know."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "He... they... it was just horrible! I thought he'd be safe, being a Malfoy!" Hermione leapt up and started pacing in agitation. "His family was at the top! He should've been basking in it all, protected from any attacks by his father and godfather. I don't understand how they could've allowed him to become a target. He didn't deserve it, he never did. He was a nasty prat, but we were all just kids!" Tears filled her eyes and her fists were clenched as she swung to face Hector. "No one deserved what he got! I had to help him, Ministry be damned!"

Hands out in a placating gesture, he immediately agreed with her. "You did good, hun. You saved him. It's alright." He rose and approached her slowly, noting that the guard outside had started watching them closely when she'd raised her voice.

A tear streaked down her cheek, and she angrily brushed it away. "I just... I'm scared. For myself, sure, but mostly for Draco. What if no one finds him? What if he gets hurt, or killed?" Her own words made her gasp as her eyes widened in fear. 

Hector held out his arms to offer her a hug, and she fell into them gladly. "Shh, it'll be alright." Her quiet tears soaked into his shirt while he ran a hand over her hair and murmured soothing nonsense. The poor thing! If he had his way, she'd be released to custody soon; after all, if she was a 'bloody brilliant' as Malfoy had hinted at, maybe she could help find the boy faster. 

This much was clear, at least to him: Hermione was Malfoy's friend, whether either of them realized it or not.


	15. Chapter 15

A hand with well-manicured nails scratched surprisingly soft fur, while its match gently swirled a small tumbler of whiskey. His leather armchair, soft and worn from use, creaked as he shifted to stare into the fireplace across from him. Marble hummed warmly with the flames, and the light flickered through the room's treasures to make them glow. He might live in Hell, but Crowley did love the finer things. 

He knew it was almost time, but he wasn't sure what would happen when he collected on this particular Deal. All he could hope for is an upgrade, maybe a few more steps up the ladder. He knew he'd been graced with blind luck when the man had called to him. A magic-less wizard, a squib. Every demon worth his hellfire knew not to make Deals with the wizarding sort; they had a funny way of getting out of them, every single time. Magic, of course. 

But a squib... that was someone almost too good to ignore. The man had only asked for one thing, handing Crowley a small white handkerchief: wipe it on the outside of Lucifer's cage, unseen, and bring it back. 

Not being as reckless as some demons when faced with a Deal too good to be true, Crowley had spent a few minutes thinking it over. The most likely scenario, whatever this useless wizard wanted would fall through, and his soul would end up in Hell. Or maybe the bastard would mess with Lucifer's cage; it'd be interesting to see if the box held up to any tampering from the magical community. It's not like they played a part in the whole Heaven-vs-Hell battle royale to come. 

At the time, Crowley had decided to take the Deal. He'd kissed the disgusting man, sealing his fate. Then he'd shadowed in and out of the area closest to Lucifer, his skill in hiding better than most any other demon in Hell. Tossing the rag to the pathetic squib, he'd told the man he'd see him again in a decade. 

Ten years later, and his Hounds were ready. And hungry. And, well, maybe a little bit bored. It'd been a long while since anyone had run from a Deal with any real success. Sometimes collecting souls was very much like shooting fish in a barrel. 

Crowley patted the head of hellhound next to him, smirking. "Go get 'em, boys." Yowls and barks filled the space as his small pack tore off to find their target. Sipping his whiskey, the demon enjoyed the crackle of the fire as he waited for his pets to drag that idiot back to him. Oh, he loved payday!

* * *

"You have got to be bloody kidding me!" Crowley's fist slammed down on his desk, rattling the jar of pens and picture frame he'd placed there. The two oafs in front of him remained still, new enough to know they were no match for the angry man before them. "Even the Winchester retrieval went smoother than this!" 

"Sir, we tried but-"

"Don't tell me you tried anything, you imbecile!" A glass shattered against the wall, the two lower demons flicked. "And what about my hounds, huh? Where's Horatio? Romeo? Bartholomew?"

The quieter of the two gulped hard, but even fear couldn't make him lie to Crowley. Maybe the truth would let them leave alive? "They're dead, sir."

Silence. 

"He used a wizard curse on them. There was nothing we could do." 

Eerie, deafening silence. 

The two men edged toward the door, but it was no use. Violent power lashed out, ripping them from their vessels and sending them directly, and painfully, back to Hell. Crowley rolled his shoulders, hands clenching and unclenching. 

Argus Filch would pay for this.


	16. Chapter 16

_Hermione,_

_I hope the Americans are treating you well. Getting arrested was NOT the kind of diplomatic move I expected from you, but at least they're talking to us now. Kingsley and I have been pouring over our options, and I've got a several departments working on different fronts to locate Malfoy as soon as possible. The joke's on America twice over if they think we'll let you sit in confinement much longer._

_Lots of love,  
Harry_

* * *

Hermione reread the short letter from Harry and smiled. He'd written her daily, but everything remained vague; he knew that the Council would have to be filtering through her mail before delivering it. But this...this was like the days of Dumbledore's Army all over again. She could only assume that the "joke, twice over" had to refer to the Weasley twins. At least, she hoped that was the case. 

Sighing, she tucked the letter on the small side table she'd been provided and returned to the book she'd gotten from Hector. He'd brought in a muggle new age book, telling her she might find it entertaining. Apparently, there was an entire religious movement based on magic and nature, and she'd completely missed it in her focus on the wizarding world back home. They even celebrated Samhain! The descriptions of using energies and charging items were surprisingly aware; she felt like someone must've slipped up and overshared or something. Or maybe some squibs decided to share their practices with muggles? Who knew!

Hermione was so engrossed in the book that she didn't notice her visitor until he plucked the thing right out of her hands. She gasped as she leapt to her feet, eyes flying to the man. "You!"

"Yeah, yeah. It's me, alright." Gabriel smirked as he chucked the silly little pagan book on the floor and crossed his arms. "What I wanna know is, why the hell are you still here?"

"Excuse me?" 

"You're still here. Why? You should be snuggled down in England with a good cuppa or whatever." He gestured at her cot. "This is..."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "This is your fault. Draco's still missing, so I can't leave. You made them think I kidnapped him or something!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please... You can't tell me your dear friend Harry Potter can't get you out of here with a snap of his heroic little fingers?"

"Harry? No, he..." She paused, confused. Something wasn't right. "Where's Draco?"

"Stop asking." Gabriel's voice held a sharp edge, jarring against his normally playful tone. It immediately reverted back to a friendlier approach. "I could help you, if you're tired of waiting on a knight in shining armor. Or two." 

She followed his eyes to her folded letter. How did he know? DID he know? "Um... No thanks. I'm fine, really. I'll just wait for my release. Have to go through the proper channels, you know?"

The angel uncrossed his arms, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His lip curled. "You will leave here and go back home. Now." He raised one of his hands, and a badge much like the one she's portkeyed over with sat plain as day on his palm. "Take this, and say your full name. Go." 

Considering her options, Hermione wonderred why he was handing her a portkey when he obviously had the power to teleport her anywhere he wanted. Why did Gabriel want her to leave so badly? Her gut told her trouble was brewing. "I... Thank you, really, but I can't. I won't." She stepped back until the wall prevented further retreat. Her fingers itched for her wand, but it was locked away in a safe box somewhere. Shit!

Glaring at her, Gabriel tossed the portkey on her cot and strode forward. "Look, you mewling quim! I didn't spend a over a decade setting up my dominos just to have some useless witch kick them over by accident. You will leave!" 

He didn't touch her, but Hermione suddenly felt as if a dozen hands were tickling her all over. She laughed and shrieked, her body pinned in place against the wall uselessly. She sputtered and struggled, her lungs burning as laughter turned to painful tears and gasping breaths. He might as well have jinxed a devil's snare for all the good it did to struggle against him. Dangerously close to losing consciousness, she closed her mind to her own panic as best she could, forcing her body to relax by disassociating herself from it. The pressure disappeared quickly, and she collapsed onto the floor panting for air. 

"The pass will work for 24 hours. I know you humans value your free will and all, but I strongly suggest you just go with the flow, hun. You don't want me to come back here." 

A flutter of feathers brushed at her mind, and alarms suddenly broke into her awareness. Exhausted, Hermione allowed her mind to be swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

"Report! What the hell happened?"

The guard snapped to attention, his wand hand quivering slightly. "Sir, I'm not sure! I only stepped away for a second, to take a piss!"

Hector waved away the excuse. "Let me take a look. Nurse Anderson needs to be called, now." He didn't wait for his order to be obeyed before slipping into Hermione's cell. The girl slumped against the wall in an awkward position, almost as if someone had tossed her against the wall and left her to land as she may. 

His fingers immediately checked her for a pulse. Good. "Hold on, sweetie. You're okay."

"Stevens?" Aliyah knelt beside him, her eyes traveling over Hermione's unconscious form. "What in God's name happened?" Her wand began dancing over the girl, checking her vitals and looking for injuries. 

Hector grunted in frustration. "The alarms went beserk, and one of the guys caught me as I was headed to the mess for dinner. Other than that..." He shrugged. " Is she...?"

"She's fine," Aliyah murmured softly. "I'm not seeing anything, other than low oxygen levels. Should I revive her?" At her teammate's nod, she let her wand flit softly over Hermione while humming a healing melody. The girl's eyes flickered open as the last note ended. 

Hector gently helped Hermione into a sitting position, easing her up slowly just in case. She seemed to check the room for something, and the worry in her eyes faded after she apparently decided it was safe. 

Before he could speak, her eyes flared with hope. "Hector, er, Mr. Stephens? Do you happen to run surveillance on this cell?"

"Yes..." he answered slowly, "why?"

"Now there's proof." She pushed herself up to stand, using the wall to keep her balance. Shaking off the ache still burning in her chest, she waved off his help and leaned weakly against the cool concrete. "Gabriel was here."

Hector immediately glanced at the enchanted bulb tucked into the corner, knowing it might've caught the supposed visitor on camera. "He might've tampered with it. If he's anything but human, he might've had the ability."

"Go check. Just," she glanced at Aliyah and the men guarding the door. "leave someone here with me. I don't fancy meeting him again unarmed."

With a nod, the old man marched quickly out the door to check the records. If little Hermione was right and this Gabriel person got himself recorded, it'd be just enough to get her released to her people. Fingers crossed, he tucked into the security room to access the past hour of footage. 

A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he watched the creature stand motionless before Hermione's writhing form, unseen forces holding her against the wall. He snarled at the screen when the thing looked up into the bulb and waved before blinking out of existence. 

He knew that face. And he now knew Malfoy was in deep trouble.


	17. Chapter 17

Cabin fever had set in days ago, and Draco couldn't sleep. Again. He tugged at his hair in frustration, his exhaustion making him mildly delirious. He knew the signs, saw them in himself. He was about to lose his shit. 

The anxiety attacks had started earlier in the week, almost unnoticed until he tried to sleep. His pounding heart and dizzy mind forced him to stay awake, taking away his appetite when he tried to eat something. With no books or TV to distract himself, Draco slowly spiraled toward madness. His tired mind pushed memories from the war, the things of his nightmares, directly into his waking world. Sometimes he caught himself almost believing them to be real. He laid in the bed unmoving, afraid of what he'd do if uncontained. 

Angel watched and said nothing. He could sense the turmoil and exhaustion rolling off of the wizard in waves, but he recognized it for what it really was. He'd made a mistake, a miscalculation when he forced his sigil into Draco's body. The Dark Mark he'd had was finally gone, not that the other man seemed to notice in his tossing and turning. Angel had watched the last pale lines fade over breakfast yesterday. 

No, the problem was in his generality. He'd sent his sigil to burn away the dark magic he'd felt from the man when they'd first met. In theory, it would've incapacitated a dark wizard; he couldn't be sure, since he was pretty sure no other angel blade had ever been made human before. Draco, though, was no dark wizard. The Mark had belonged to one, marring his skin as a permanent reminder of his past. Angel was glad to accidentally free Draco from that painful stigma. 

Angel's sigil had found something else, though. Without touching Draco, he couldn't be sure exactly what was happening, but he could guess. The delirium presented proof that some part of his psyche was being untainted as well, cleared of previously unseen scarring or damage. Draco would return to normal when the cleansing was completed. 

Or, at least Angel hoped that was the case.

* * *

His skin burned, sweat slicking his body as he twisted on the sheets of the bed. Draco couldn't feel anything beyond the heat slowly building in his head. His thoughts were singular and indistinct, guided by instinct more than actual awareness. _Water. Cleansing. Too hot._

He pushed up from the bed, legs weak as he struggled to stand. He coughed, via throat harsh and scratchy from disuse. "Help." Angel rushed over, his arm sliding around Draco's waist while guiding Draco's arm across his shoulders. "Shower, please." 

The two hobbled gracelessly to the bathroom, Angel moving Draco until the man was braced against the sink. Having felt Draco's dangerously feverish skin, Angel twisted on the cold water and adjusted the shower. The stall would hold them both, surely. 

"Here, let me help you to undress." Angel's fingers tugged at the other man's shirt, sliding it over his head. He deftly undid Draco's jeans and pulled them down as well, a searingly hot hand bracing against him to keep Draco vertical. Angel quickly removed his own clothing, worry in his eyes as he helped them both under the cool spray. 

Skin slipped against skin as Draco jerked and hissed under the shower's assault. It stung, but his head cleared a bit almost immediately. He closed his eyes, allowing the soothing waters to wash over him and ease the fire within himself. The feeling swirled and shifted, gliding down from his head to ripple through his entire body. 

He seized as the power ripped through him, a shout escaping his lips. Angel's arms remained locked around his waist, holding him up as he twitched under the rush of energy through his body. Images flooded his mind, rapidly changing as the previously locked portion of himself burst open. 

Angel jolted at the same moment Draco jerked in his arms. Holding the man, he could sense each pulse of unlocked potential as it rushed through Draco. He couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend what was happening. This had nothing to do with angels, that was for damned sure!

Draco's eyes flew open, locking on Angel's icy gaze. Steam danced over Draco's skin as he threw his arms around Angel, lips crashing into the other's quickly and capturing a surprised gasp with his tongue.

The air quickly filled with steam as the shower's spray evaporated immediately on Draco's skin. He pushed Angel against the tile wall, hands bracketing him against the cool surface as they devoured one another. 

Angel struggled to gain control of himself, shocked at his body's response to Draco's touch. The blond blazed like a bonfire, the burn of his skin almost too much for even the blade's body to take. His hands braced against Draco's chest to push him away, but he groaned as lips left his to trail along his jaw and down the curve of his neck. "Stop. We need... you can't... Draco..." 

Draco paused when he heard his name, reality suddenly returning. His eyes flew to Angel's, both staring at each other in wide eyed surprise. Angel jerked away from the wall and stumbled out of the shower stall. The heavy damp of the bathroom's air made it hard to catch his breath. He yanked a towel from the stack near the door and wrapped it around himself as he fled the room. 

The cold water battered against Draco's skin as he panted. What the hell was that? He leaned against the wall Angel had vacated, the wet surface keeping him vertical as his racing pulse refused to calm down. His cock ached, and his skin buzzed with awareness; he could almost feel each individual drop of water as it hit. Holding his palm out to catch water, he noticed that it vaporized on contact. Yet his skin felt normal, didn't it? Examining his arms under the spray, he noticed that his Dark Mark was completely gone; Angel's sigil replaced it, but the pale symbol didn't upset him in the slightest. He was free?

* * *

Angel strode away from Draco quickly, afraid he might not escape the bathroom without the other man giving chase. Or without turning back around to rejoin him. His pulse sped, and he felt almost high with energy. 

Draco was free. Unbound. Possibly unstoppable. 

A shiver ran down Angel's spine, his sensitized skin reacting to the coolness of the air against his damp body. He clutched the towel at his waist, unsure of what to do. This was far beyond anything he could begin to understand. He'd been wrong, so very wrong. 

Images from Draco's touch had been hard to follow, but they were evidence of something sinister going on in the wizard's life. There had been no angel involved in locking away the part of Draco now free. Dark magic had been in play, possibly for years, interfering with both fate and free will. Angel's stomach turned at the thought of what might've happened with that strange dark wizard, the one who'd marked and tortured Draco, had the boy been in full control of his powers from the start. 

He sank onto the couch, feeling the remnants of his arousal tingling through his entire body. He had to admit it, he was completely out of his element. Demons he could handle. Angels, a piece of cake. But wizards and their magic? Not so much. 

The shower stopped, and quiet filled the room. 

Now what?


	18. Chapter 18

George ran a towel roughly over his wet hair and frowned at his brother's snoring form. "Oi, enough lazing about!" He shoved Fred's foot hard, making him jerk awake before falling off of the chair he'd been leaning precariously backward in his sleep. "Where's my breakfast?"

"Ugh, do I look like mum?" Fred gestured vaguely toward the side table of their hotel room where he'd tucked a takeaway container of pancakes. "They might still be warm."

Grumbling to himself about stasis charms and proper manners, George tugged on a shirt and pants. He plopped down and shoveled as much of the lukewarm food into himself as possible. Today was Rescue Day, if they'd planned things right. 

Samhain appeared to be a big deal with the muggles and wizards of Salem, and that would hopefully work in their favor. With the crowds milling about and making a commotion, the twins hoped they could locate a clue as to the location of the American Council's entrances. It was a slim hope, but at least they could finally do something useful rather than wandering around the quirky town looking for... whatever they were looking for. A door? A phone booth? A toilet? Maybe just a needle in a haystack. 

Having poked around enough in the past few days to familiarize themselves with the local weirdos, George and Fred both grabbed a robe to toss over their muggle disguises. In theory, they'd pass for new age wannabes to the muggles while looking enough like proper wizards to avoid unnecessary notice. That was, of course, only a problem if they actually managed to find a way in, finally. 

The streets were packed. Fred eyed a pair of voluptuous women with car ears that twitched as they moved; surprised, he paused and watched as they held an animated conversation with a vendor from Witch Way. Their tags lay small and lifeless, attached to their leggings by a belt. His interest deflated, he turned back to see George's raised brow. "What?"

"See something you like?" 

Fred rolled his eyes and shoved George forward again. "Just thought someone beat me to the punch. New product." His short response was enough for George, who was completely aware of Fred's odd creation process. They continued down the crowded walkway, poking around various vendors and chatting up other meandering visitors as if they too were in town for the festivities. 

It was nearly lunchtime before they found the clue they were looking for. 

A short, wiry old man dressed in burnt orange robes wandered past the stall they'd stopped at, muttering under his breath about muggles and noise. Fred's head shot up, his eyes tracking the man through the mass of people browsing the vendors' row. He tugged on George's sleeve, and they both slid away from the booth quietly, edging in two directions to track their target more thoroughly. 

The wizard hobbled down a side street, and Fred smirked as he saw where they were headed. The Witch City Consignment and Thrift Store stood before them, filled to the brim with customers and window shoppers. As they edged into the shop, Fred made sure he stayed out of view from the front desk. As lovely as Ms. Evangeline had been last visit, he was in no mood to be noticed. It was clear that George was of the same mind, as he used the crowd to keep himself as far from the cashier as possible. 

Fred hurried to stop his brother as several well-dressed witches emerged from a previously unseen door. He murmured as they ducked away to look at a nearby shelf of crystals. "There's a bloody door! Why didn't we notice it before?"

Huffing, George pretended to inspect a large amethyst geode. "Well, we found it now. What's it matter?" The coast clear, they quickly moved toward the barely noticeable door. It must've had a serious Notice-Me-Not charm on it; he almost felt the urge to look away as they approached. A ripple of energy tickled their skin as they reached the little hallway containing the door. Probably an anti-muggle ward or something. 

Opening the door, the two men got their first look of the real American wizarding world in a state of awe. 

The huge room reminded George of the airport, full of boisterous activity and lots of space. Many of the people roaming around had muggle clothing on, no robes or wizard fashion in sight. In fact, if he hadn't just watched someone cast a cooling charm over a fresh cup of coffee, he'd think they'd somehow made a wrong turn. A large board stood near the door they'd used, a large red dot marked "You Are Here" glowing in the center. Skimming the departments listed, George frowned. "Bloody hell, where's their visitor center? They must have a sign-in desk or something."

'Let me look," Fred nudged as he examined the map too. "Hmm... Well, maybe if we wander toward the cafeteria, we'll just look like two hungry blokes who got lost?"

Shrugging, they both figured it would be cover enough. Wands tucked in arm holsters, the two knew they could prove they weren't muggles who somehow managed to get in... but who knew what would happen if they were discovered as unknown, foreign wizards in the Council's headquarters?

Striding toward the cafeteria, they both took up a vague conversation on Samhain and pretended to know where they were going. No one paid them much mind, other than the appreciative glance of a clerk by one of the random check-in windows scattered along the walkway. Giving her a wink, Fred smirked and followed his brother down the first corridor on the right. 

Clearly, this was the cafeteria. Smells assaulted them, an odd mix of fried foods and muggle cleaner, maybe? George edged them toward a line for food once he saw another wizard pay with muggle American money. Good! He elbowed Fred. "Go grab that table," he pointed discreetly to a small table tucked off to the side of the growing lunch crowd. 

"Yeah, yeah," the other grumbled as he immediately moved to reserve the table George had indicated. 

George was trying to decide between the burgers and sausages when a voice behind him caught his attention. 

"-really knows Malfoy? Like, from before?"

"Yeah, they attended school together from what she says."

"I still don't see why we need to believe her. She's not really forthcoming with the info, ya know?"

"Malfoy's never been much of a sharer either, if you remember."

His turn to order, George paid for a couple of burgers and wandered over to Fred after getting a quick look at the speakers. One was lanky and young, clearly a newer employee or something. The other man looked like an old soldier from a movie; his uniform did nothing to hide the muscled fluidity of his limbs. 

Fred snorted. "Didn't know that was your type. Should I tell Hermione when we find her?" He ducked an elbow and grabbed one of the burgers from the tray. 

Sitting at an angle to watch the old man sit in a nearby booth, George idly poked at his burger. "I think they're Aurors. Or, well, whatever." 

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they were talking about Malfoy, and maybe Hermione." 

They both carefully kept an eye on the booth while eating their lunch slowly. The younger man scarfed down his food and left with a little salute. The other man skimmed the cafeteria casually as he ate, almost seeming to do so out of habit rather than necessity. As he rose to clear his tray, the twins did the same. 

They followed him through busy halls, turning left and right at random intervals. George had a bad feeling when the crowds of people they'd been pushing through thinned out. If the man noticed them, there was nowhere to hide. 

Suddenly, he opened a door and marched into a room. George hesitated, but Fred immediately moved to follow. As the door opened, a hex flew at them both. Instincts from past duels and the war had them both diving out of the way, wands drawn to shield themselves from further attack. 

The man seemed nonplussed by their presence and unwary of being outnumbered. He looked them over and frowned, then grinned and lowered his wand. "Weasleys? Fred and George, I presume?"

Sharing a look, they nodded. George spoke first. "And you are...?"

"A friend, for one. If you'd quit with the," he gestured to their wands pointing at his face, "that'd be nice." 

Wands lowering slowly, they stayed on their guard. The last thing Hermione needed was company in a cell somewhere. 

"You're here for Hermione, I bet?" Chuckling at their looks of surprise, he nodded. "I thought so. She's talked about you, ya know?"

"Really?" Fred asked before he could help himself. 

George elbowed him. "Oi, hush!" 

"Yes, really." He held out a hand, giving them each a friendly handshake. "The name's Hector Stevens, but you can call me Hector. Or Stevens. Either's fine." 

"A... pleasure?" Awkward and confused, Fred and George accepted his shake. 

Cutting them some slack, Hector tucked away his wand and motioned for them to follow. "You're in luck, boys. Little Hermione was just remanded to my custody last night after a, well, after evidence of her innocence came to light. I set her up in here."

They trailed after Hector as he marched down one hall after another. Pausing at a desk by a shimmering glass door, he leaned down to talk quietly to the woman sitting behind it. Her eyes flew to the twins before returning to her team mate. "Oh, really?"

She waved her hand over an orb on her desk, and the glass doors swung open. The shimmer, however, stayed in place. Hector moved forward, but the boys paused. She noticed their weariness and smiled gently. "This is the protective custody ward, gentlemen. While I'm sure you really are Hermione's... friends, we can't take any chances. If you have harmful intent, I strongly suggest leaving."

George admired the wards, impressed. At least they knew Hermione hadn't been in danger here. He shared a silent agreement with Fred before striding through the shimmering ward after Hector. 

Admiring their retreating forms, Nora smirked before calling up Jordan with her mirror. "So, you wanna tell me how two British infiltrators made it into the compound unnoticed?"


	19. Chapter 19

Sealing her letter with a dab of wax, Hermione shoved it into the Sending Box and sighed. With the time difference and security processes, Harry would probably get her letter in the morning. Good enough. 

Nora had been kind enough to arrange her access to the Sending Box as soon as the paperwork for her release had been processed. She was still in protective custody, thank goodness, but she had her wand and a guest suite rather than a cell to call her own. 

Voices approached from down the hallway, causing a warm tingle in her chest. She knew her visitors before they turned the corner. 

"Hermione! We're so happy-"

"-to see you!" 

Arms smothered her, and she couldn't complain. The twins hugged her tightly as she sighed into their hold; she'd missed this. Fred and George gave the best hugs. Remembering they hadn't arrived alone, Hermione shyly smiled at Hector as he leaned against the wall watching their reunion. 

The old man smirked. "You were right, hun. These two made it into the building and followed me halfway down here. Hell, if I'd been anyone else, they probably would've made it down to you without anyone the wiser!" 

"We're just that good!" Fred untangled himself from George and Hermione, turning to face Hector. "We're something of professional sneaks, in our own way. Opened our gag shop to make a bit out of our natural talents at getting away with things."

George pressed his lips to Hermione's forehead and gave her a final squeeze before releasing her. "We were worried about you," he murmured. 

"Mhm," she sighed happily before pulling away. "I'm glad you two are here, actually. How far did you get on deciphering the charm work on the, um, special map?"

Fred glanced at Hector, then to his brother. With a short nod of agreement, he answered. "We figured out the tracking portion, mostly."

"Fred's being modest. HE figured out the tracking portion."

"But George found the matrix holding the tracker to the map and the map to Hogwart's wards." 

"True, but-"

"No buts!" Fred glared at George, then rolled his eyes. He spoke to Hector, ignoring his brother's antics. "George likes to play at being modest, but he's the real genius when it comes to fancy spellwork. I'm just the idea man." 

"Hmph! Idea man my ass!" George jabbed his brother's arm. "You get all of the potions mixed properly the first try. As if I could ever-"

"-be absolutely better at integrating them into the products, and-" 

"That's enough!" Hermione gave them both a small shove. "You're both brilliant! Now stop arguing over it!" 

Hector chuckled. "Were you guys really arguing over who was better... in reverse?"

The twins shared a look. "Yep!"

Shaking her head in exasperation, Hermione walked over to a small couch and sank into the cushions. The boys reviewed the room, having ignored it in the process of finding Hermione and arguing with one another. It looked a bit like a small flat. The room they stood in was small but efficient, a loveseat and armchair provided seating for a few visitors. To the left appeared to be a bathroom, and to the right a bedroom could be seen through the cracked door. 

During their perusal of the room, Hector slipped past and slid into the armchair across from Hermione. He spoke quietly. "Do you think these two can help us find Draco?"

"I hope so," she replied, her brow furrowed with worry. "It's been far too long, and if that... angel... is involved, Draco might be in serious trouble." She eyed the twins as they poked around her temporary quarters. "Let me talk to them. I'll explain what's happened, and then we'll see what we can do." 

"Alright," he patted her knee and stood. "I'm headed off, then. Jordan and Nora should be back from lunch shortly for their guard shift, so let them know if you need anything. We'll meet up for dinner and go from there." With that, he slipped out and headed off to check his messages and see if any new information had popped up. 

The click of the door's latch made Fred peek out from the bedroom he'd been exploring. "Oi, where's he off to?"

George emerged from the bathroom and frowned. "Did he really just take off?"

"Well, you were too busy poking around to be bothered." Hermione closed her eyes as rubbed her temples, a tension headache well in the works. Worrying over Draco had kept her mead achy for days, even before her unfriendly visitor. "I need to catch you up on what's been happening. I think you two will be more help than me." 

Hands brushed away her fingers and began their own circles of gentle pressure on her temples. More hands pressed against her neck and shoulders, massaging away the tension. A sigh escaped as her eyelids fluttered open. George knelt before her, which meant Fred must've slipped behind the loveseat to rub her shoulders. "Mmm... you guys are too good for me." 

"Actually, we've done the Arithmancy and-"

"-you're clearly too good for either one of us." 

She grinned. "I'm not sure I believe that one."

Fred's hands paused, and George glanced up to his brother. She watched George's face, clear that she was seeing one side of a two-part wordless conversation. George's gaze flickered back down to meet her own, his fingers sliding gently into her hair. It was only natural to lean forward and meet his lips with her own, the soft brush of a kiss intense in its simplicity. 

Her pulse jumped as his tongue traced the seal of her lips, and she opened to him immediately. Their tongues danced against one another, the taste of him stirring her desire. He stood, pulling her with him; she hardly noticed as he readjusted them both, until he sat and drew her with him. She ended up straddled across his lap, his hard thighs hot even through their layers of clothing. Hermione had thought to pull away, to find Fred or maybe just to breathe. The couch dipped to her left, and then her hair was swept aside for lips against her neck. 

Fred half-knelt beside her, bracing one knee on the couch to bring himself down to her level. He marveled at the taste of her skin, and the way she hummed her pleasure against George's lips. Her hips shifted instinctively, rubbing the heat of her arousal against the lap she rode. George groaned and tore his mouth from hers. "Bloody hell, you're hot!" 

Eye half closed, Hermione giggled softly. "Thanks, I do try." She pressed a hand to his chest, the other sliding up to gently tug on Fred's hair until his mouth stopped doing such wicked things. "We... we need to talk. Mmm?"

Fred huffed against her neck before allowing her to pull him away. He plopped down on the loveseat, shoving at George's hip until he scooted over. The three of them shuffled until Hermione found herself sandwiched between them, their long lean thighs pressed against her own snugly. It was delicious! 

Noting their flustered conditions, Hermione snickered to herself. "So... Let's get down to business!" 

"To defeat... THE HUNS!" The twins laughed uncontrollably at their own joke, and it took only a moment for her to realize what they'd done. 

"Really? Can't you two be serious for five minutes?" 

"We could be Sirius for an hour or so, with polyjuice."

"Didn't know you were into that kind of thing. What would Harry think?"

"Do you think he'd have an old hairbrush or something?"

"I can't imagine Kreacher really cleans anything enough to make finding a piece of Sirius hard." 

"Maybe Hermione just wants to find a piece of Sirius... hard." 

"Ugh!" She slapped them both playfully. "Knock it off!" 

They both looked at her, wide-eyed and innocent. "What?"

* * *

Jordan shook his head as he strode down the hall. Those two Brits were insane, but he could see why Hector had asked for their help. The list of items they needed wasn't too complicated; getting them from supply wouldn't take long at all. He collected a local map, as well as one for all of Massachusetts and one for the entirety of the United States. Heliotrope and hazel to find lost things, a pigeon feather quill, several magical inks, and a muggle compass. Easy peasy!

Hermione had asked for some of the samples they'd taken from Draco himself, prior to his disappearance. Jordan found Hector on the way to the infirmary. "So do you think this'll work?"

The other man shrugged. "We can only hope." He gestured toward the room that held the Winchester boys; they were still out cold, no change to their readings since the first day. "We need them back."

Jordan understood completely. Despite being muggle, the Winchester team had been one of the major forces to contain the growing numbers of demons and other supernatural creatures running amuk across the country. He had a feeling they were part of a bigger story he hadn't heard yet. He glanced over Hermione's list again, then held it out to Hector. "You know... maybe Ruby and Colt could help with this map thing those guys are trying to make?"

"You think?" Hector examined the list, intrigued by the combinations of ingredients so far. It looked promising, if his basic charms knowledge interpreted the process correctly. Using the weapon people as grounding points might work even better, especially if they assumed right in thinking Angel was with Draco still. He nodded and handed back the list. "I'll see if they feel up to helping out." With a nod, Jordan headed off to take the supplies back to Hermione. 

That girl was something else! With her and the twins working together, they'd find Draco in no time. Jordan had a gut feeling, and his were never wrong.


	20. Chapter 20

Crowley shimmered into existence. The air had a bite, the smell of rotted leaves tickling his nose. He hated this part of America, more than he hated going home to Hell actually. He was fond of the urbanite sprawl of the East Coast; at least the people there could pretend and grasp at sophistication. 

The house his sweet pup Juliet had marked was dilapidated and near collapse. He sneered. Why did power hungry men always go for rundown dumps? Was it in a rulebook somewhere? Juliet headed home after leading Crowley to his mark; he wasn't chancing her or the rest of his hellhound pack. He'd lost enough already, and it was time for that squib to pay. 

Lights flickered in one of the windows, the fireplace casting a soft light throughout the living room. Other than the flicker of firelight, the house seemed empty. Looks, however, could be deceiving. Argus Filch was here. 

Crowley's senses picked up spellwork under the house. He assumed the basement would be Filch's workspace; after all, it was easier to hide blood and bodies out of sight that way. Logical, even. 

His boots crunched across the lawn as he slowly edged his way toward the door. Fingers cautiously turned the handle, finding the door unlocked. A ripple of magic tried to stop him, but he waved it away; he was no muggle or wizard, and the ward held no power over him. Either Filch was cocky or lazy, and he was betting on the latter. 

Floorboards creaked underfoot as he made his way through the house. He hadn't lived so long by being reckless; his demon senses scanned the rooms for magic, for traps. He found a few flares of magic. A book with residual energy from whatever spells it contained. A locket that pulsed with whatever small curse it held. Several mojo bags lining a glass-covered shelf. Ah ha! 

Multiple wards screamed that Filch didn't want his mojos messed with. Of course, Crowley didn't care. He nudged at the threads of magic, surprised to find them more elaborate than those on the house itself. Annoyed, he glanced to be sure he was still alone before pulling out a small pocket knife and nicking his wrist. Blood magic was, at the best of times, necessary, and at the worst of times, undignified and messy. His fingers dipped into his own blood, quickly drawing sigils across the glass door of the cabinet. His tongue quickly closed the cut, but he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the area and his mouth. Ugh, how did vampires do it? Grimacing, he tucked the mess away and focused his power on the markings he'd made. 

A latch clicked. 

Crowley's fingers brushed the first mojo just as he felt Filch's presence enter the room. Eyes wide, he realized what the squib had done. Somehow he'd bound the magic of others to himself, a magic that was brushing against him in anger. 

"What are you doing here, Crowley?"

"Well," he stalled, calculating his chances without turning to face the man. "It's been a decade. We made a deal, didn't we?" 

The smug cackle of borderline insanity made the demon flinch. "Oh? Did you think you would come collect?"

His pocket knife slowly eased out of his jacket, palmed carefully to avoid notice. He'd get one shot, maybe two, before Filch could get to him. Clearly, the squib had magic now. But what about his mojos? He straightened his back, still refusing to turn to the other man. "You killed my hounds. Even if you didn't owe me your soul, I'd come to collect for their deaths."

"Aww, do you miss your little pups? They're ugly little bastards, but their organs are ideal for potion brewing. Hard to come by, too. You made me a pretty penny." 

Teeth clenched, Crowley chose his targets based on how old they felt. Older usually meant stronger, right? He spared a look over his shoulder. "This is for them. For Horatio, Romeo, and Bartholomew." Before Filch could respond, Crowley rapidly stabbed into the mojos he'd decided looked most important. He managed three destructive thrusts before the wizard seemed to understand what happened. 

"NOOOOOO!!!" The screech torn through the night. Magic blasted in all directions, shaking the entire house to its foundations. A cacophony of noise swarmed out of the windows, leaves flying in the wake of escaping magics. 

And then, all was silent.

* * *

No. 

Impossible. 

Gabriel flashed into the dank woods, knowing where his little friend Argus kept himself between failures. The scene made his mind whirl, calculating how he could work with the sudden change in plans. 

Where once stood a house, rubble remained. A small fire burned toward the side of the pile that used to be a living room, he supposed. Rubbing a hand over his face in frustration, the angel toed at a nearby roof beam and groaned. "Damn it..."

A shift in the rubble made him smile. _Okay, I can work with this._ He moved to kneel beside the broken body that climbed slowly from the wreckage. Argus was a bloody mess, bits of bone protruding from a bad break in his arm as he struggled free from the debris. He cringed and moaned in pain when Gabriel's hand pressed to his shoulder. 

"Shh, you're okay." The angel spoke as one might to a wounded animal, soothing and soft. "You need to get up now and fix yourself, Argus. You don't have much time. You have to complete your ritual tonight, or you'll die a squib. Alone. Weak. Useless." 

The man grunted in pain, shifting again to pull himself away from the heaps of plaster and wood that used to be his hideaway. His fingers stretched out, hovering, seeking. With a flare of power, his wand tugged itself from the ruins and flew to his hand. 

Pleased, Gabriel left.

* * *

Angel jerked awake, the darkness of the room making him nervous. He'd fallen asleep in a chair, his head cradled on the table as he'd tried to reason out what had happened between himself and Draco. 

Draco. Where was he?

He rose quietly, his eyes adjusting to the dark enough to see vague outlines. Draco's body was a dark lump on the bed. At least he slept this time. Angel knew the powers swirling through the wizard were barely leashed, and they'd avoided talking about it for hours before retreating as far away from one another as possible. 

Smothering a yawn, Angel nodded to himself and turned back toward the kitchen. He could make tea in the dark with little trouble, surely. The shine of the stove's clock gave him enough light to start the kettle to boil. His hands located the box of tea bags and a mug tucked in the cabinets, and he prepped them for the water before leaning against the counter idly. 

A spike of heat made him jump, his eyes flying to Draco. 

Draco's back arched rigidly, a muffled howl of pain escaping his clenched teeth as his fingers tore at the sheets beneath him. His body took on an eerie light, as if his blood were lava pulsing under the thin barrier of his skin. Angel cringed against the sudden brightness, sweat breaking out across his skin from the energies filling their enclosed prison. It was a surprise that nothing burst into flame, and yet he imagined that this heat was exactly how it felt when he'd been forged... well, if he'd had the ability to feel at the time. 

The heat and light crescendoed, then waned to a more bearable pulse. Angel moved quietly toward the bed, instinct driving him to ease the pain etched in Draco's panting form. He paused as he stood over the blond, a strange sensation sweeping through him from proximity to so much energy. He'd thought the block undone earlier, when they'd clashed in the shower full of heat in more than one way; perhaps he'd been wrong. 

Fingers brushed hair back from a sweat dampened forehead, then hands slid to cradle Draco's head carefully. Angel ignored the searing sting that answered his touch, focused instead on the place within this man that had been bound so forcefully into near nonexistence. His stomach dropped when he found the truth. 

His little dragon was little no longer.

Draco's eyes flew open, his hands gripping wrists to pull Angel down over himself. Their bodies crashed as their mouths met, the fiery need between them tangible in the air. Hands pulled at clothing, fingers digging into skin and bruising flesh. They pulled apart to breathe, to yank off pants and shirts, before fusing together again and again. Legs circled waist, hard thrusts followed by aching moans for more, and the world lit up with their sudden release. 

Miles away, an angry howl echoed through the night.


	21. Chapter 21

Fred's quill scribbled across another piece of parchment, Arithmancy equations calculating and recalculating themselves with sigils and runes. He knew the proper charm to create a ward map like the one the Marauders made of Hogwarts. He even knew the complex composition of the map itself, thanks to George's ingenuity with deconstruction potions. What he didn't know was how to use a muggle map, without wards, to target a single person... But Hector had sworn that every tracking spell they'd tried so far had failed to locate Draco. 

Ink flashed gold and made him pause. He squinted at the new runic script, working through its energetic signature in his head. That could work!

His shout of triumph made Hermione jolt, scalding hot tea spilling over her fingers. Sucking the injured digits, she scowled in his direction. "Was that really necessary?"

Fred smiled sheepishly at her. "Yes?" At her huff of disapproval, he hurried to explain. "I finally cracked it. The proper charm, I mean."

George plucked the parchment from the table and skimmed it. "Hmm... Not bad. Ruby, Colt, let me show you what we want to try." 

"Why bother?" 

"What do you mean, why bother?"

Ruby crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. "We're temps here, expendables. No one expects you to act like our opinions matter, so why pretend?"

A gentle hand rubbed her shoulder. "It's not like that, Ruby. You know that." Colt's quiet words seemed to calm her. His eyes met George's, sharing a quick nod before the three of them huddled off in the corner to go over the details. 

Fred closed his eyes, rubbing them hard as if to dispel the feeling of guilt Ruby's words had caused. Soft fingers combed through his hair, gently tugging and releasing it in little waves. Hermione pressed a kiss into his hair, murmuring quietly. "You really are helping, Fred. She knows that, she's just scared. I think we are all, a little." 

He heaved a heavy sigh. "I know. I just..." Words failed him, and he shrugged.

"Me too," she continued her soft touches, soothing him as best she could. "Draco's trapped Merlin knows where, there are important people trapped in a magical coma, there are objects turned human walking around upset, and American tea is appalling." 

He snorted at that, knowing she'd thrown in the comment about American tea just to make him laugh. "You're right, of course. You're always bloody right." 

The conference room's door opened, Hector striding in with Jordan as they managed armfuls of maps and a globe. Some looked muggle, while others were clearly wizard in origin. They dumped their haul onto the large table, and Hector motioned at the pile. "That's it. One of every map we had on file, and a few from the muggle super store down the road. If you can't pin down Draco's location on these, he's not on Earth anymore. End of story."

"Actually..." Jordan rummaged through the pile and pulled out a star chart that showed the Milky Way in scientific detail. "He'd have to be even further away to avoid being found. Though, even with angel magic, I'm not sure he'd live somewhere like Pluto. And I'm not sure how we'd rescue him from a planet orbiting some distant star." At everyone's bewildered stares, he blushed. "I was a boy scout, ya know. _Always prepared_ and all that crap."

* * *

It took over an hour to get everything ready. Fred and George had arranged various maps throughout the conference room, arguing in circles about where to start their search. With a little help and input from Hermione (as well as a few hard nudges for their foul mouths and bickering), they'd decided to start with a basic map of America as a whole. 

Ruby and Colt stood over the table, the twins guiding them to opposite sides of the focal map. Several charms had been cast, and two small vials of potion sat on the table. Hermione lit the floral incense they'd mixed, a combination of herbs using in basic seeker spells and potions. The sweet smoke twirled into the air. 

Hector watched the two weapon people out of the corner of his eye. They seemed calm and willing enough, though it'd taken a while and a tantrum from Ruby before they'd finally agreed to cooperate. He wondered why the boys hadn't decided to use a pendulum or some other item; then again, he was sure there was some magical theory that required their specific involvement. 

Checking the time, George motioned everyone in. "Alright, there's no time like the present. You know what to do?"

"Is the sky blue?" Fred rolled his eyes and nodded to Colt and Ruby. "You guys shouldn't feel anything but a soft tingle, maybe a buzz. If it gets to be too much, just smack us."

Without a word, Ruby tossed back the contents of her potion vial and wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, it tastes like molasses!" Colt smirked and swallowed his own without comment. 

The twins began weaving a complex set of trigger charms, little spells to trigger their anchor objects into locating the person in question. They worked delicately, the strands of magic tangling around Ruby and Colt as the potions did their thing. 

Ruby's stomach turned as her hands lifted against her will, fingers splayed over the map and thrumming with energy. God, this was frustrating! The only tolerable thing about the entire process was the way that pert girl Nora winked at her from across the table. As if it were just a game, and she knew who would win. Colt's hand joined hers in the air, but she ignored them in favor of opening her mind to the magic. 

Her finger darted to the map, a nail digging into the toe of Louisiana's boot. Colt's finger pressed against hers, vibrating with the push from Fred and George's magic. 

New Orleans?

_Of course._

With a heavy sigh, Ruby pulled her hand back and rubbed it as if to remove the magics that had forced it forward. The twins quickly ran for another map, an atlas turned to Louisiana quickly before being thrust over the original spell map. A angry huff escaped Ruby's lips as her hand shot out over the map again, the odd sensation of pinpricks dancing across her skin again. A familiar pull led her finger to meet Colt's over an odd patch on the map. Fred flicked his wand to mark the spot, and then the energies fled the room. 

Ruby slouched into a chair, her legs and arms crossing in obvious distaste. Nora ignored the twins as they consulted several muggle and magical maps to review the marked location they'd found; she was more worried about the woman pouting silently. She crouched until her eyes were level with Ruby's down-turned face. "Thank you," she murmured. "I know that you didn't want to do that, but I'm glad you did." 

Silence sat between them, but Ruby gave in and sighed heavily, dragging her fingers through her hair in agitation. "I just... I like this body, ya know? I like being alive. I don't like being reminded that I'm just..." She trailed off, looking away from Nora. 

Fingers against her chin drew her back to open, honest eyes. "I get it." Eyeing the group bustling around the conference table, Nora smirked. "How about you and me go get some grub, let these guys do the heavy lifting? You did your part already." 

With a small nod, Ruby allowed herself to be tugged to her feet by the petite witch. She really liked this one's spunk. "Alright," she said as she flung a companionable arm around Nora's shoulders, "but you're buying." 

Hermione watched them leave, a small smile on her face.


	22. Chapter 22

"I have done a bad thing, I think." 

Draco's mind stirred to consciousness as Angel's words sunk in. He chuckled. "Oh? Is there some cosmic rule against getting laid?"

"Actually, I believe I'm exempt from most rules due to being a weapon." 

Sliding a hand through his hair, Draco furrowed his brow. "So... What then?"

Angel stood, his lithe body graceful in every movement. "You weren't meant to be unbound like this." Draco felt his pulse quicken as he examined the love bites across the pale skin before him. It took a moment for Angel's words to get through. 

"Wait, what do you mean?" He hated to repeat himself, but his distracted mind refused to follow whatever was being explained. He watched Angel tug on his discarded clothes, making no move to cover himself or look away. His thoughts flicked to their mind blowing sex, the sudden lust that had overtaken them with little warning. He remembered the sounds he'd made, the feel of skin to skin. 

"Stop, Draco." 

The smell of singed fabric made him leap from the bed. What the hell? The sheets of the bed smoked where he'd been lying. Draco's eyes flew to Angel's in shock. "I... This... What the hell is going on?" He stared at his hands as if he'd find the answers in his palm. "What's wrong with me?"

Angel's fingers were light as they touched his wrist, soothing in the steady pressure they provided. "You had a block that I've mistakenly undone, and I'm sorry. If I had known..."

"Known what?!" Exasperation made Draco raise his voice, his fists clenching as he felt a rising heat under his skin. 

"You really are a little dragon, Draco. You've always had the potential to be... more. Someone bound you, though, before you could ever become what you were meant to become. Now, without training or warning, I have unbound you. I am sorry. This will not end well."

Draco tried to follow Angel's explanation, but his head hurt. His palms pressed to his temples as an uncontrollable burst of energy wracked his body. A grunt of pain escaped him as he collapsed into the other man's arms, his muscles tight and tense with power. What was this? He was fine just minutes ago, fine enough to have sex and enjoy the afterglow. Why did it feel like his body was being electrocuted slowly by an unseen wire? 

A gently hand pressed against his forehead, and the world faded, taking the pain with it. Angel felt the ripple of energy bursting from Draco's soul, and he knew help would be there soon.

* * *

A flash of flame startled Ruby out of her mindless contemplation of the map those wizards had created. She glanced over to see if they'd noticed the damned thing, but they were still arguing on what herbs to use for a Revealing Potion or some stupid shit. 

Ugh. 

Ruby's finger traced the small burnt spot, and her eyes widened as she realized what it was. "Hey!"

Her shout brought all eyes to the table. Hermione rushed over first, Hector edging in next to her to review the map. Ruby felt her entire body humming with nervous energy, like the anticipation she used to feel in Dean's hand. Wait, what? She shook her head and stood, backing away from the table. 

"What's wrong?" Everyone else had circled the map, muttering about the new mark and what might've triggered it. Nora, however, was completely focused on Ruby. "Are you okay?" A gentle hand cupped her elbow, drawing her to the side for privacy. 

Ruby rubbed her hands together, trying to ease the itch to act, to do something. "I think..." She paused, feeling stupid and awkward. How could she explain what she was feeling when she didn't understand it herself? Taking a deep breath, she focused on Nora and pushed forward. "I think Angel's calling for help, for protection. From one... _patronus_... to another." She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as understanding seemed to flare in Nora's eyes. 

The little warrior turned to her team and barked an order. "Hey! We need a Tracking Circle and a portkey modulator, now!" 

A confused bustle followed her order, people darting down the hall and flicking wands to move furniture around the conference room. Nora caught Hector's eye and nodded, a silent message delivered in the controlled chaos. Turning back to Ruby, she reached out and squeezed her shoulders. "Now we have a plan, thanks to you!" The quick kiss she pecked on Ruby's cheek made them both flush with embarrassment. 

In no time, a strange multi-toned metal ring had been magically implanted into the floor. The space it encircled contained a configured altar table that held the map they'd been using, along with a strange opaque cube the size of an apple. Colt stood next to Ruby as they faced the altar, a stranger from some other department standing in front of them to form a triangle around the altar. Hector had taken charge, explaining to them all that they might be able to activate Angel as a portkey remotely, based on the energy found in the small burn created by a flare of magic on the map. Ruby and Colt would provide counterpoints, resonating with the same odd mix of human and object properties.

* * *

A humming energy flowed through Angel as he held Draco carefully, hoping they'd both be okay. He wanted Draco safe, healed, protected. He couldn't do that himself, and it was that realization that allowed him to summon help. 

He smiled before winking out of existence.

* * *

Ruby felt a tug from her center before she stumbled, her vision blurring. As she blinked the room back into focus, she realized that Angel sat next to the altar with Draco's head across his lap. The table shuddered, and the portkey man grabbed the little magic cube before running from the circle as if his ass were on fire. 

Then she smelled the singed wood, just before the map and table burst into flames. 

She tossed a hand to guard her face from the heat, but it didn't hurt. A glance at Colt showed him as unaffected, but the witches and wizards outside of the circle seemed... scared? Ruby returned her attention to Angel just as the table collapsed into a pile of dust. Kneeling carefully next to the two men, her hand hovered over Draco's unconscious form as she recognized the heat. Her eyes locked with Angel's. "He...?"

"Yes," he answered in a whisper. "I should never have interfered. I may have irreparably altered what should have been." 

Hesitantly, she ran a hand over Draco's arm. The heat radiating from him should've melted her flesh; she supposed it was good to not be a human, at least this once. Her mind reeled as she tried to decide what to do. Should they explain it, to the wizards? Was it theirs to know? 

Colt crouched next to her, startling her from those thoughts. "I think we need to help them contain this. Who knows how long we'll be here? They need the information, at least enough to keep him from harming his own kind." 

With a nod, Ruby rose and turned to the people watching outside of the circle. "This is... we know a bit about this magic. Can you conjure a cot that's resistant to fiendfyre?"

"Nothing's resistant to fiendfyre!" The young man, Jordan was his name she thought. He seemed anxious, as if being kept from Draco were tearing him apart. Then again, he might be upset to see a teammate endangered and out of reach. 

It was Hermione's quiet words that soothed him. "Actually, that is no longer correct." She stepped forward, her wand out and shoulders straight. The words she murmured were indistinguishable from her breath, but an elegant ball of mercurial metal appeared and slowly melted into a small cot within the circle's confines. It solidified, and Ruby's eyes widened. Before anyone could ask, Hermione had Draco levitated onto the cot; it held, not melted or bursting into flames as the altar table had done. 

Recognizing the growing heat in the room, Hector cleared his throat. "Okay, team. Level 10 shields on this entire room, you have five minutes." Even Nora bustled off to wave her wand, casting numerous spells into the air around the room.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she and the twins slipped into her assigned quarters. It was well after midnight, and they'd spent hours working to ensure the safety of the entire American Council compound. Ruby, Colt, and Angel clearly knew something more than was said; they'd refused to leave the circle, and they'd insisted on protections even Hermione hadn't heard of before. Draco seemed fine, though, so they were left with guards monitoring the wards in case they deteriorated. 

It wasn't enough, but it was all they could do. 

She'd extrapolated a bit from the information she'd overheard and from what she'd personally observed. Draco was projecting some kind of heat, fire magic. Considering the precautions taken, perhaps it was even related to fiendfyre. She shuddered at the thought. 

A soft hand brushed her arm. "Hey, chin up. Everything's fine now. We have Draco back, and we'll figure out what's wrong and help him tomorrow." 

"I know, George." She leaned into his touch, letting his arms slide around her as she tucked her face against his chest. "I just feel so useless." Her muffled words vibrated against his skin. 

George nuzzled the top of Hermione's head, sniffing her hair and smiling. "Well, you aren't useless. You're brilliant."

She bristled away from his complement, but her escape was thwarted by Fred's hands on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles to ease her anxiety. "Shh, don't argue. I know you're scared and worried, but we'll be no help to Draco if we don't get some sleep." 

"You're right," she murmured as she relaxed into their touches. When they both tensed, she pulled away to examine their faces. "What?"

Fred smirked, his hands drifting down her back slowly, fingers tickling the sensitive skin of her sides. "Well... maybe I didn't think you'd be so easily distracted from worrying."

"Yeah, you've always been so focused." George pressed a kiss to her forehead, his own hands running down her arms until his fingers could circle her wrists. 

"So driven," Fred added as his lips pressed against the back of her neck. 

"So passionate," George squeezed her wrists gently, pulling her into his kiss. 

As if she'd try to run from this. 

Hermione's heart fluttered with excitement. She could feel herself floating in the sensation of so much attention directed at her all at once. George's hold stopped her from running a hand through his hair, but it also stopped her from pulling away in surprise as Fred's hands slid to cup her breasts. She moaned softly into George's mouth, and their groans of arousal returned the call. 

In unison, the twins both ground their hips against her. The hardness of one against her mound and another against her arse might've burned her through their clothing, it was that hot. Overwhelmed, she jerked between them and caused a friction that excited all of their electrified nerves. 

A giggle escaped Hermione before she could stop herself. At the confused looks she received, she shook her head and slip out of their grasp. "You guys are so sneaky!" She could feel her cheeks flushed and her pulse still beating frantically in her chest. "We need..." Clearing her throat as she noticed how husky her voice had gone, she started over. "I think I'm going to take a shower, then go to bed." 

Her quick escape to the bathroom had them both frowning in confusion. They shared a look, one that wondered if they'd pushed too hard or too fast, or if she'd changed her mind about them completely. 

Hermione peeked around the corner of the door, a faint blush stealing across her cheeks. "Um, you coming?"

Fred and George nearly tripped over each other in their haste to join her.


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione darted into the bathroom, her mind racing as fast and hard as her pulse. She could do this, if she wanted. She could have them, all of their attention and admiration. And lust. A delicious shiver coursed down her spine at the thought.

Right. She just had to dive in and go with whatever happened. Not that hard. 

She flicked her wand, vanishing her clothes and starting the shower before her nerves could stop her and make her think. She carefully peeked around the door frame, amused to see the boys looking confused and aroused. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she spoke. 

"Um, you coming?"

The resulting scramble was a gratifying sight. Hermione slid quickly into the shower stall, wetting her hair with her back to the door. Bravery could only take her so far; anxiety warred with desire as she closed her eyes under the warm spray.

A soft growl made her glance over her shoulder. Fred's eyes scanned over her body like hands. Meanwhile, George's shocked stare froze him at the edge of the room. In seconds, they both recovered their senses and started stripping off their clothes.

With a flutter of awareness, Hermione turned back to the water and breathed through her nerves. The twins liked her. They wanted _her_. It was impossibly true, better than any fantasy she'd had before now.

The stall was suddenly full of skin and steam. It was large, but it definitely wasn't built for three. Hands hesitantly caressed her stomach and back from both sides as they shifted under the water. She smiled up to Fred, noticing the constellation of freckles across his shoulder that mirrored but didn't match George's marks. Interesting. 

Smirking at the residual shyness they were all exhibiting, she grabbed the Ever-Suds loofah hanging from the small rack of toiletries under the shower head. Working it into a lather, she stroked it against her own chest, her other hand following the soap to rub the day's stress and worries from her skin. She sighed at the smell of peppermint and the gently tingle across her skin.

"Merlin, you're hot!" George groaned as his fingers chased hers across her chest, tips gazing her nipples to elicit a small moan from her lips. He turned her, dipping down to savor the sound against his mouth. 

Fred smirked and plucked the loofah from Hermione's distracted hold. "Here, let me get your back." She felt his hands gliding over her skin as George devoured her. The soap subs made her slide against George's body, his erection thrust up against her hip. He grunted against her lips at the slick contact, making her smile and shift against him purposefully. 

When he pulled back to look her in the eye, Hermione realized she'd been playing with fire. 

Fred hooked the loofah back in place and used his hands to guide water in rinsing her skin. Satisfied that the soap had been thoroughly removed and Hermione had been thoroughly rubbed down, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his hard body. She couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes against the wave of arousal they were riding together, but they flew open again as Fred slid her hair out of the way to nibble on her neck. 

Her mouth went dry as she watched George kneel before her. Her knees went weak, but the arm around her prevented collapse. George's fingers trailed down her thighs in small circles, then back up toward her core. She gasped and arched against Fred's hold as fingers parted her and George's tongue circled around her clit. She came in seconds, a flush blooming across her body as she moaned and writhed with her orgasm. 

"Fuck," Fred whispered as he held her through the aftershocks. "You're so responsive!" He nipped at her earlobe and shifted his cock against her ass. Her shudders made him chuckle, pleased with himself. 

George rose to his feet, hands running up to grip Hermione's hips. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue. She felt her breath catch, her mind still dizzy from the sudden pleasure she'd received. Eyes met hers and waited for focus. "What do you want?" His voice was a husky murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. 

It took a moment for Hermione to realize what he was doing. He was giving her a chance to change her mind. The thought made her grin. "You, please?"

The fingers on her hips dug in as if surprised by her answer, but then George glanced over her shoulder to Fred and nodded. He slid a hand from her hip down to the back of her thigh, hitching her leg up along his hip and holding it there. He leaned forward, and her eyes rolled shut as his cock glided along her slit. 

"Don't. Tease. Me." She bit out each word through gritted teeth, her body primed and ready. What was he waiting for? 

He thrust into her as if obeying her command, his hips immediately falling into a rhythm of push and pull she couldn't resist. Every inch of her skin was sensitized. The shower tingled heat across her chest, while fingers dug into her hip and thigh. Her back rested against Fred's chest, her ass sliding wet against his erection as George's hips met hers again and again. 

The noises of their mutual pleasure filled the steamy room, echoing off of the tile louder than the shower's spray. Hermione cried out as another orgasm crested, and she felt the pulse of George's cock as he came inside of her. Fred's teeth locked on her shoulder in sharp relief against the softer pleasure, but it was it's own prize; she cried out again from the sensory overload, and Fred grunted through the bite as a few more thrusts against the curve of her ass finished him off. He immediately licked and kissed the mark he'd made, as if apologizing wordlessly for it. They stood panting under the spray of water for a few silent moments. 

Hermione broke the silence first. "That. Was. Amazing!"

* * *

The compound had grown quiet as most people slept. 

Angel sat on the floor by Draco, a hand on the man's arm to reassure him in his sleep. Sweat slicked their skin, but he ignored it. 

Ruby, however, did not. "What the fuck were you thinking? I mean, seriously!" She paced angrily at the edges of the circle they were bound in, arms flailing with her words. "If you hadn't messed with shit before you knew what was going on, maybe we wouldn't be in here baking with Mr. Lava here!" 

Colt laid a hand on her shoulder to soothe, then shrugged when she jerked out of his touch. "Look, Ruby. You know he didn't do any of this on purpose. Maybe you should sit down and-"

"-and what?! Wait until we dissolve in his presence? It's only a matter of time, you know. We aren't indestructible!" Ruby jabbed an accusing finger in Angel's direction. "If you knew how to keep your God damned hands to yourself, we wouldn't be in this mess!" 

"God did not damn my hands, as far as I am aware." Angel's face was bland when she glared in his direction, but internally he thought his statement was both sarcastic and true. 

Colt stepped between them as Ruby moved as if to hit Angel. "Now, children... we need to calm down, have a seat, and see if these wizards can help us. Fighting will only make things worse." 

Ruby crossed her arms to avoid assaulting either of the men stuck in circle with her. The desire to be violent grew with her agitation. "How could anything be worse than this?" 

"I believe I can answer that." 

Angel's head snapped up. Gabriel stood in the conference room, his face smug as he examined the light of magic lining their circle. Their eyes met, and Angel knew trouble had come. 

The witches and wizards hadn't used Enochian scripts to ward against angels; they hadn't known it could be an issue. After centuries of not interacting with angels and demons and their cosmic struggle, it was easy for those outside of that battle to grow comfortable in their exclusion. Who knew if anyone had bothered to keep notes on banishing demons or barring angels from entering a space? 

Gabriel crouched at the edge of the circle, running a finger along the edge of its power with a smirk. "So... you have a choice, Oh Wise And Pointy One. Either you can come with me, or you can hand over Flameboy." 

Angel frowned in confusion, but Ruby stepped between them. "No, Loki. I know you, and this is a trick." 

"Oh?" A malicious smirk lit up Gabriel's face. "Just because you know it's a trick doesn't mean you won't fall for it." He snapped his fingers, and the wards of the room quaked. The smell of burning paint and wood rippled in the air, and a shriek of pain echoed from outside of the room before he snapped them again. The wards realigned themselves, but the faint burning of the walls from Draco's unleashed power was clearly visible. "If you don't cooperate, I'll just open the door and leave." 

Ruby recognized Nora's voice in that cry. She squeezed her eyes shut against it and clenched her fists. This couldn't be happening! Her stomach turned with fear as she tried to think of a way out of Loki's trap. There was no way...

"I will go." 

Angel's hand gently patted her shoulder as he passed, and it took her a moment to realize what he'd said. She gasped as he stepped over the ritual line. "Wait!" Her hands brushed the empty air where Angel had been. Behind her, Draco stirred. 

"We're screwed."


	24. Chapter 24

Argus Filch was a dour man, his natural state one of obstinate hatred. As a squib, he'd endured years of prejudice and mistreatment, cruel magical pranks and false kindness everywhere he'd looked. Leaving the wizarding world to pretend himself a muggle had seemed like his only recourse... until he'd run across a book. 

_On Daemons and Their Proclivities_. The idea had been presented in such a straightforward manner that Filch knew it to be a trick. How else would he run across such perfect information just when he was ready to give up? He'd studied the worn ink and cracked leather for weeks, vacillating between shoving the book back on the shelf he'd found it or giving the rituals within a go. He'd already decided to try stealing magic from others with the strange spells he'd found scribbled in older tomes. Surely a bit of otherworldly help couldn't hurt?

Ten years ago, his decision had been made. It had worked perfectly. 

Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the mojo bag before him. The thing had been trashed by that arrogant demon Crowley during their last visit. The tattered talismanic bits weren't completely destroyed on this one; the powers of the current season would allow him to wrench control over the wizard his mojo was tied to, returning some of the power he'd previously stolen for himself. Demonic magic was crude, but effective; the wizarding world didn't know enough to fight it. 

Filch added sulfur powder and hematite to the new mojo, hands steady as he eased pieces of stolen hair from the old bag to the new. Satisfied with the renewed energies of the power pull, he lifted the bundle to tie it shut in its new fabric. A throat cleared behind him, almost causing him to drop the entire thing. 

"Hey there, Argus! I brought you a treat!"

With a quick prayer for patience, Filch finished off the tie and set down the mojo. He flicked a shield over his workbench before turning to the quirky angel fate had saddled him with. "What do you-?" He cut off, suddenly aware of the second man held close to Gabriel by a firm grip on the shoulder. "Who the hell is this?"

Gabe snorted. "Angel, this is my dear friend Argus Filch. Argus, this is Angel of the magical-weapon-blade-turned-human brigade."

"The... what?" Filch eyed the thing blond creature. Not a human? Interesting. 

As his magic slid over Angel's form, Gabe smirked. "I was thinking of it this way, Mojo Jojo. You want to create a whore... no, I'm sorry, a horcrux. You need a few things. An unwilling assistant. A bit o' soul from your own scraggly mess. A sturdy item to hold the magic." He gave the creature a shove forward. "I brought you two out of three."

Familiar with Gabriel's sense of humor, twisted as it was, Filch flicked his wand to read the signature of the strange man before him. It made no sense. "I don't see what you want me to do with this."

"He's an angel blade, used to belong to my brother. A weapon, or at least that's his natural state. Your little screw up in the woods last time made this," he waved a hand toward Angel. "I'm not sure how or why, but eh. Still impressive, for a fuck up. Long story short, though, Angel here's a walking, talking _object_ for your evil magical pleasure. You can even take his soul as it were, twist it in that little bit of voodoo that you do, and then shove in your own piece. Voila! Instant immortality insurance! Well, actually, it's not all that instant. Still, it's immortality that your kind can achieve. Better than nothing. Whatcha think?" 

"I'm... not following..." Filch hated to admit his confusion, but he hated not knowing what was going on even more.

The angel heaved a huge, exaggerated sigh. "Well... I guess I'll use smaller words and shorter sentences. Kill him. Make a horcrux. Angel blade. Indestructible." Gabriel nodded as Filch's eyes lit up with maniacal glee. "That's the spirit! See what I'm driving at?"

The wizard nodded, flicking his wand to bind Angel in place. "I think I do..."

* * *

Hot. It was too hot, yet the feeling was familiar. 

_"Draco."_

His left arm burned, worse than any call Voldemort had made before. Didn't Potter kill that maniac? The pulsing pain made him tense, his other hand clawing at the offending forearm. Hands tried to pry his fingers away, but he grunted and growled and struggled against them. Couldn't they see it hurt? 

_"Draco._

He was burning alive. It made sense that he'd die this way. He never should've escaped the fiendfyre all those years ago. The nightmares were a sure sign that fate was unhappy with his survival. Maybe this was it. Maybe the fires found him again. 

_"DRACO!"_

The shout forced Draco into consciousness. A glance at his arm showed the sigil from Angel glowing angrily from his skin. He ignored Ruby's shouted questions, tugging himself free from her grasp and standing in the magic circle they'd apparently cast around him. Or maybe not. He could feel the wards around the space, the mild pressure keeping him in. 

Or at least they thought it would. 

Draco focused inward, locating Angel instinctively through their bond. Anxiety, fear, and pain rippled through his awareness. Angered by the knowledge of danger facing Angel, Draco reached up through the wards blocking him. A tear formed, and he disappeared. 

Alarms sounded.

* * *

Sirens blaring in the halls startled three lovers from their sleep. Untangling limbs and bolting out of bed, they shucked on clothing as quickly as possible. 

"What do you think's going on?" George cracked open the door while the others tugged on shoes. 

Hermione twisted her mess of hair into a bun quickly; it paid to be efficient rather than pretty when trouble started. "I have a horrible feeling..."

"Oi!" George reached out and tugged someone from the hallway into their room. It was that bloke Jordan, from Draco's team. "What the bloody hell is going on around here?"

The other man panted from all the running. "Containment breach!"

Nodding, Hermione and the twins immediately followed Jordan back into the chaos of people rushing toward trouble.


	25. Chapter 25

A pungent smoke swirled in the air around the dank basement room as Argus smeared bloody sigils on the walls. Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, smirking at the sight of Angel's body swaying from the blood loss. He couldn't help but wonder if the thing could actually die. After all, he was a weapon long before he became a man. Speaking of the man, Angel seemed suspiciously still other than the slight twitch and pull of muscles in his arms.

Gabe rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat to pull the wizard's attention from his work. "Argus, you might want to check his hands. I think he's finally gotten the ropes undone."

"What?" Argus whipped around, glaring at the problem immediately. His wand flicked out with an angry whip, tightening the ropes hard enough to force a pained gasp from Angel. "Thanks," he muttered as he returned to his work. 

With a few more minutes of squiggles and slashes of blood, the walls of the basement glowed. The sigils formed a ritual circle, one that made Gabe's skin itch unpleasantly. Wrinkling his nose, he edged back away from the door. He might enjoy playing with Argus, but he wasn't stupid enough to get himself caught up in the middle of the wizard's dark magic. Who knew what that'd do to his grace?

Apparently satisfied with the magic space he'd created, Argus wiped off his hands and set aside the bowl of blood he'd been working from. He examined his worktable and notes, presumably reviewing the horcrux ritual one last time. As if he hadn't memorized it by now! Clearly it was the vessel and sacrifice combo that had failed before, rather than the man's memory. 

"Gabriel, my friend. Are you sure you don't want a closer look?" Argus spoke cordially, as if inviting the angel to examine a painting rather than a complex ritual murder. 

Shrugging casually, Gabe stayed put. "I can see well enough from here." 

"Have it your way," Argus replied as he pulled a silver athame from his worktable and wandered over to Angel's side. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he jerked Angel's head back and tested the blade against his cheek. The thin cut glowed, and that seemed to be what Argus was looking for. Eyeing the calm creature bound before him, the wizard seemed annoyed. "Do you know what I'm going to do? I figured it out, you know. Why my horcruxes never form correctly. I've been too hasty, too impatient with the kill itself. If I take my time..." 

Angel clenched his teeth, stifling a groan as the magic blade slid down his ribs. The cut bled profusely, and the sigils around the room grew brighter as the blood hit the floor. Gabe's brow rose, intrigued. Argus really did go all out this time, it seemed. 

With a sinister showing of teeth that might've pretended to be a smile, the wizard shoved the blade in deep under Angel's ribs. A harsh scream ripped through the air, and Argus removed the athame. Angel dropped to the ground, lifeblood oozing into the circle and charging the space. After calming returning the athame to his worktable, Argus returned and aimed his wand at his target's dying form. Latin spilled from his lips in a harsh whisper.

_**Adsit exitium franget animos...**_  
_Let break the spirit of destruction..._  
_**Sit vas incolunt, in aeternum...**_  
_Let it inhabit this vessel, forever..._  
_**Horcrux excitant!**_  
_Horcrux activate!_

* * *

"Draco."

Angel coughed and struggled to stay conscious, his pulse growing weaker with every heartbeat. He could feel the hum of magic around his body, painful and sharp with its intent. 

Dying. This must be what dying felt like. Very unpleasant. 

"Draco, please."

Filch lifted his wand, a chant spilling from his lips almost like a growl. The dark magic licked Angel's skin, seeping into the wounds like acid. The agony torn through Angel's body, lighting his nerves on fire. 

"DRACO!"

* * *

Draco found himself standing in a hallway of a dark, unfamiliar house. The man before him, however, was no stranger. Before Gabriel noticed his presence, Draco's magic surged forward and forced the angel to stumble into the room he'd been watching. Following him through the door, Draco froze at the sight before him. 

Gabriel glared at him, moving toward a corner. Why he'd stay in the room surrounded by the taint of blood and death was beyond Draco's understanding. Weren't angels supposed to be more... angelic?

Ignoring the idiot, Draco marched forward as Filch raised his wand and began chanting in Latin. The words weren't familiar, but the intent was clear. Wand in hand, Draco lashed out with a spell Jordan had taught him months ago. " _Nits'in átsé!_ " The Navajo words whipped his magic into Filch, freezing him in place over Angel's bleeding form by stopping his very bones from moving. 

Draco kneeled next to Angel, his magic dissolving the ropes that bound his hands before the wizard could even think the appropriate spell. The energies of the circle tugged and twisted against his own, but he brushed them off. "Angel?"

"I knew you'd come," Angel coughed, eyes glazed from the blood loss and pain raging through his body. 

"We need to get you out of here," he answered softly, gently helping the other man into a sitting position. He found the stab wound and frowned at the glow of it. As he pointed his wand at the injury, he could feel it trying to absorb his magic. It must've come from a cursed athame; he'd seen similar wounds before. Aliyah's favorite healing spell came to mind, and he mentally thanked her for teaching it to him. Wand tip against the stab wound, he murmured the spell while focusing on the image of a healing ice stopping the damage in its tracks. " _Klaki lækna._ "

Angel gasped, goosebumps flushing across his skin. "Th-thank you." He shivered against Draco as he tried to catch his breath and push away the dizzy lure of unconsciousness. Glancing over his wizard's shoulder, he jerked with surprise as Filch wretched himself free of Draco's spell. 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

"NO!" Angel pushed the blond away, the bright green light flaring in the mess of dark magic gathered around them. The sigil on Draco's arm seared white-hot before going cold. 

A clang of metal echoed in the room as an angel blade crashed to the floor. 

Silence held them all in limbo. 

Then, all hell broke loose.

* * *

In the American Council's medical bay, a nurse jolted with surprise as the eyes of her assigned patient opened. She shook off her initial shock and followed hospital protocol. Casting a messenger pigeon spell, she sent the glowing bird flying down the halls to Nurse Anderson with a short message. 

"Castiel's awake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The random non-English, non-Latin spells are explained in context. I googled words from randomly selected languages, as I'd already decided that America's melting pot would lead to spells in lots of languages rather than just Latin.


	26. Chapter 26

Nurse Aliyah Anderson was known for three things: using the most obscure and creative healing spells, baking the best German chocolate cake on Earth, and enforcing protocols in her medbay. The large mass of people blocking her hallway was not okay. 

"Clear out!" 

Her shouted order was almost instinctively obeyed by everyone, from her own staff to the visitors from across the pond. Glad to see the fire hazard properly managed, Aliyah motioned to Hector and his entourage to follow her inside. The on-shift nurse handed her a clipboard and moved to allow Aliyah access to Castiel's bedside. The angel sat straight-backed on the edge of his cot, sad eyes on the still body of Dean Winchester. 

She was disconcerted when he suddenly spoke. "What has happened here? Where has Dean gone?"

Clearing her throat, she spoke softly to the quiet man. "There was an accident. Do you remember what happened in the woods before you were knocked unconscious?"

"We were attempting to locate and detain a local supernatural killer. I admit that I do not remember..." His gaze drifted from Dean to Sam, then finally to Aliyah herself. "I cannot sense them here."

A quiet cough drew their attention to the small congregation of visitors Aliyah had permitted in the medbay. Colt stepped forward, and a silent message seemed to dance between them. Understanding dawned in Castiel's eyes before Colt spoke. "The ritual you three ran across caused... this." His hand gestured to himself and to a frowning Ruby. "I'm guessing something happened to Angel, since you've come to."

Hermione gasped at that, her hand flying to cover her mouth. "Oh, no!" The twins embraced her, offering solace as they all considered the implications of Castiel's consciousness for the first time. 

Cas broke the tense silence. "Tell me what has come to pass. Please."

* * *

Hermione sat elbow deep in books from the Council's library hours later, trying to distract herself from the current dilemma by focusing on how best to repair the wards Draco tore through on his way out of the compound. The Americans used an interesting array of magical methods, many based on cultures outside of their own country. She'd already seen that the warding theories of China were studied in depth by most protective magic specialists, while the camouflage techniques of the Amazonian tribes had been converted into complex spells that surpassed disillusionment by a long shot. 

Completely immersed in her reading, Hermione jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. Reflexes had her wand in hand and tucked into her assailant's ribs before she realized what she'd done. "Oh!" Flustered, she blushed and tucked her wand away. 

Hector just chuckled. "Hello to you too, sweetie." 

"I'm so sorry, Hector! I didn't-"

"Think nothing of it!" He cut off her apologies with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "I snuck up on you." He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat, rubbing a hand across the stubble of his chin. He looked exhausted. With a heavy sigh, Hector broached the newest information they'd gathered from Cas and his understanding of the energies involved in the weapon-people swap of lifeforce. "Castiel says he can sense Draco's location, something about that sigil Angel tagged him with. But he can't take the team. Too many people, especially in his current state. He said his vessel had been overtaxed by the ritual or something."

Hermione's mind immediately started calculating several Arithmancy formulas, presenting and dismissing several options in seconds. "Can angelic energy be harnessed by our magic? Or visa versa?"

"Er, possibly? You'd have to ask the angel himself." 

Hermione leapt up, rushing off to find Castiel, a plan already forming in her mind. She found the angel speaking quietly to Ruby and Colt, his gaze straying to the one they'd called Dean more than once. She paused, unsure now that she'd rushed in without thinking. 

Cas ended her indecision by noticing her presence at the door. "Hermione. Did Hector explain the limitations required for travel to Mr. Malfoy's location?"

"There's a way around that! Well, maybe." She wrung her hands nervously. "Can you...? I mean, I'd never even heard of angels being real back in England. Does your magic, or energy, or whatever you happen to call it, happen to work with ours? Wizard magic, I mean?"

The others stared at her rambling questions with confusion, but Cas seemed to follow her meaning well enough. He dipped his head in answer. "Yes, I do believe we are compatible in most things. Does that assist you in further determining our course of action?"

"Can I try something?" She motioned for him to follow her, heading for the torn wards in the conference room Draco had nearly destroyed. Stepping into the charred space, she turned to the angel and explained. "I'd like to apparate you from here to, say, the other side of the room. I need to know if it's similar to your method of travel."

Nodding, Cas accepted her hand on his shoulder. She used the broken warding to allow the small trip, then turned to him expectantly. "Your teleportation is... disorienting. It is not the same as my own method of travel, as you called it. May I demonstrate?" 

Hermione felt a quick tug at her navel at Castiel's touch, and she found herself back where they'd started in a blink. Smiling brightly at Cas, she almost bounced with excitement. She turned to Hector; he'd followed her as she'd marched down the halls with Castiel in tow, his amusement glittering in his eyes. "Go gather your team, please! Cas and I can get everyone there in a snap!" 

A flurry of commands and footsteps up and down the halls followed her announcement. In moments, Draco's team had assembled in the conference room. Fred and George arrived with them and slid in next to Hermione.

"So," Fred whispered in her ear, "what kind of mischief are you getting us all into now?"

From her other side, George added his two cents. "Seems like we haven't had a break since you accepted our dinner invite."

"I'm starting to think it's payback-"

"-for pestering you into that date in the first place."

She rolled her eyes. "You guys are ridiculous! Hush, so I can explain what we're doing." Turning her attention to the group, she raised her voice so everyone could hear. "Okay then! We're going to travel to Draco's location using an angel-charged portkey. It should get us all there with no problem."

"Should?" Nora wrinkled her nose. "I prefer a little more certainty than 'should'."

"You wanna leave Draco hanging?" Jordan glared at his teammate. "We don't have time to sit here and argue. If you're worried, just stay behind!"

"I was just saying, it seems shitty to just-"

"-be a nag? Yeah, it is!"

"Christopher Alan Jordan! Quit being an asshole!"

"Well I would, if you'd just shut the-"

"ENOUGH!" Hector's roar silenced the bickering. He leveled an annoyed gaze at each in turn, his eyes clearly warning them to hold their tongues.

Fred whispered loudly to no one in particular. "Are they brother and sister?"

"Having Ginny flashbacks?" George replied back.

"Yep!"

* * *

Crowley stroked Juliet's head softly as he watched his men approach Filch's property from a relatively safe distance. He could almost feel the ripple of violent wards from where he stood, though they felt a tad off from the norm. 

"You'll need to be quick with this time, pet." Crowley pouted his lips in sympathy as the hellhound whined, the rest of her pack huffing and yipping in circles as they awaited the command to attack. "I know, usually you'd get to play with a bastard like Filch. But I can't afford giving him the chance to slip away again. You understand, don't you?" His fingers scratched behind her ear, making Juliet pant happily. 

A cautiously cleared throat brought Crowley's attention to his minion, a young demon named Darius. "Sir! The wards are damaged, but we can't cross them. The magic's still too charged." 

"I see," the older demon replied. His irritation shifted to humour as he suddenly sensed the familiar presence of a certain angel nearby. Turning, Crowley tilted a small bow toward the group of witches and wizards holding wands in his direction. "Good evening, friends." His hands lifted into the air calmly, while his younger companion's hands flew up rapidly with fear. 

"We are not friends," Castiel corrected. The angel never did understand the subtleties of the English language. Or any language, for that matter. 

"My mistake," Crowley answered smoothly. 

An older gentleman, the oldest of the group if appearances could be believed, stepped forward. "What are you doing here, Crowley?" 

Keeping his hands clearly visible, he glanced back at Filch's gloomy shack. "I'm trying to collect a debt, that's all."

"That is likely to be true." Castiel eyed the hellhounds, being one of the only people present with the ability to see them in the first place. The angel gestured toward the house. "Draco is inside, and I sense a sealed room. He is most likely located within that space."

When several pairs of eyes turned toward Crowley, he shrugged. "What? Not my job, not my problem. Now shoo! Go, save the day and all that jazz."


	27. Chapter 27

Hector didn't wait for further confirmation. He had a gut feeling that this man Crowley told the truth. "Jordan! Take your squad in and find them! I'll keep half the team here for backup." 

With a quick nod, Jordan took off. The team split, following their training. He didn't look back as he drew his wand and approached the front door. The wards had only flickered eerily before going quiet; Malfoy must've done a number on them when he showed up, especially after what he'd done to the Council's wards. 

The front door creaked when he pressed it forward magically; he avoided touching anything, in case of traps or curses hidden as additional security. The team slowly filed into the foyer, then spread out to examine the first floor. 

"If I had a secret room, where would I hide it?" Jordan muttered to himself as he crept through the kitchen. His eyes fell on a section of wall that shimmered in the light of his wand's tip. Running several revealing spells over it, he managed to unhide a door. He let off a sharp whistle to call in the team, then nudged the door open. 

Silence. Why was it so quiet? Were they too late?

Taking the lead, Jordan eased himself down the steep steps and into a basement hallway. The stone walls radiated heat the way asphalt did in August. Malfoy must be nearby. His weird magic had been hot and angry, probably strong enough to burn down the entire house over their heads. Well, maybe it was better not to think about that. 

An open door flashed with light, and Jordan signaled the team to be ready for an attack, just in case. As he reached the doorway, his wand almost slipped out of his hand in shock. That bastard Gabriel stood against the far wall, his eyes completely focused on the dueling pair of wizards before him. And Malfoy... glowed?

* * *

Draco flung curse after curse at the ugly old man before him, forcing his opponent into a defensive position. Nothing was landing on Filch, though. Frustration built in his blood as he tried again and again to break through Filch's shields. The damned squib shouldn't even have a wand, or magic! 

Filch lashed out with practiced skill, slicing Draco's arm just as he raised his wand to cast another volley of hexes. He flinched. Where the hell did Filch learn to duel? Draco blocked another cutting curse before regaining his momentum and forcing Filch to return to blocking spells thrown his way.

The skirmish went on for several minutes, neither man truly gaining the upper hand. That is, until a tingle of awareness flared in Draco's forearm. Angel's sigil flashed with power, and Draco immediately glanced back for the angel blade on the floor. 

It wasn't on the floor. Gabe stood behind Draco, holding the blade is if he owned it. 

As if he had the right. 

Rage flooded Draco's mind. His wand hand threw up a shield between himself and Filch, barely blocking the stream of hexes that the other man let loose. His other hand flew out toward Gabe, magic flaring and burning along his arm and into his fingertips. The sigil on his forearm glared brightly in the darkness. 

"Put him down." The cold tone of Draco's voice froze everyone in place. Filch stopped his assault, and Gabe paused in the process of tucking the angel blade into his jacket. 

Gabe smirked, gesturing to the weapon. "This is an angel blade. I am an angel. You are not. Don't worry, I'll take good care of it."

"No." 

Draco's magic sprung at the angel with his denial. The circle bulged and burst with his power, sending unseen ripples of magic tearing through the entire building. The thuds of people hitting walls and pieces of ceiling collapsing to the floor went unheeded in his fury. 

The smug look on Gabe's face turned to shock as the magic ripped into him, wrapping itself into his very core. Distracted, he didn't even try to keep ahold of the angel blade as it tugged itself from his hand and flew into Draco's palm with a soft slap of metal to skin. Soothed by the feel of the weapon's return, he also missed the quick exit of Filch from the room.

* * *

The earth itself rocked with Draco's power, and Crowley nodded in appreciation. He considered himself a clever businessman, and choosing to remain outside while those wizards dealt with whatever magics Argus Filch had gotten into... well, that was just good business. The backup wizards, on the other hand, ran straight toward the house and into the danger. Fools. 

Juliet's growl alerted him to the presence of a slow-moving shadow by the side of the house. Amused, he watched as Filch edged away from the house. The squib's eyes searched the windows and doors for pursuers, for danger. He wasn't looking behind himself as he backed away from the overcharged building. 

Crowley smoothed his jacket and waited until Filch turned to run from the scene. He smiled as the blood drained from Filch's face. "Good evening, Mr. Filch."

"C-Crowley?" The man flinched away from the demon. His magic felt weak, exhausted in whatever he'd been doing inside. 

With a nod to Juliet, Crowley let his hellhounds circle the deal-breaker. "I'm not happy with you, Argus Filch. I consider myself a fair man. We made a deal, and you tried to renege. It's time to pay up." 

A scream tore through the night.

* * *

Castiel pulled himself from the ground and glanced into the once-warded room. His chest felt tight and painful as his eyes met Gabriel's. What had his brother done? 

The power radiating from Draco hurt, but it didn't burn. Perhaps he'd learned some modicum of control. Still, the heat seared through the air and across the skin. Castiel could see the magic flowing around Draco's body, surrounding himself and Gabriel in its brightness. A tendril linked Gabriel to Draco, and Castiel's heart sunk as he realized the truth. 

Hermione gasped and staggered to the door, her eyes wide with fear. "Draco! Please, stop this!" 

"His power holds my brother's Grace." Confused eyes flew to Castiel, and he cringed away. 

The gesture must've explained more than his words ever could. The young witch stepped into the room carefully, her wand hand shaking. "Draco! Listen! Please listen! You don't want to do this!" 

Draco's cold gaze met hers. "He started all of this. His death will end it." He turned back to Gabriel, refocused on his task. 

"No, please!" Hermione tucked away her wand and edged closer, palms up and out to show herself unarmed. "I know he did things to you, to Angel. I know you're angry. But he's an angel! You can't just kill him!" 

Castiel slipped into the room as well, prepared to rescue the young woman from her foolishness if necessary. This creature before them was far less man than magic; he wasn't sure if Draco would even blink at destroying them all. 

As Hermione reached Draco's side, she lifted a hand to touch his shoulder. The wizard flinched away. "Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want to hurt you." 

That small flicker of humanity decided Castiel's course of action. He turned to Gabriel, catching his brother's eye. "I can't save you from this." 

"I know," Gabriel coughed. The magic holding him leeched his life force, disconnecting him even from God it seemed. He was dying. All his schemes, all his jokes, all his plans had led him to this moment. 

Frowning, Castiel asked the only question he could formulate. "Why?"

"I was bored." 

Draco jerked on the tendril of magic within Gabriel's being, and the angel's form sizzled out of existence. In the flash of blinding light caused by his brother's destruction, a final message filtered through his consciousness. 

" _I'm sorry._ "

* * *

The team collected each other from the chaos of damage caused by Draco's power. The limped and climbed out of the basement, each thinking on how lucky they were to be alive. Hermione stayed near Draco, and he could tell she worried for him. No one else was brave enough to approach the wizard who could destroy an angel. 

Draco's heart twinged as he looked down at the wand in his hand. It was charred and split, the core burnt into nothingness. He hadn't noticed its destruction as he'd faced Filch and Gabriel; he'd been so focused on the fight that he'd ignored the feeling of loss as his power had overwhelmed it. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the useless stick to the ground and stepped out into the night air. 

Jordan had the team pairing up to use emergency portkeys back to the medbay. He sent everyone back while Hector spoke quietly with a man in a suit nearby. Draco turned back toward Filch's house and narrowed his eyes. No one was left inside. 

A fire leapt to life on the roof, quickly devouring the house as if possessed. Draco ignored Hermione's words of warning, quietly guiding the fiendfyre to consume everything that was once Argus Filch's home. The form of a dragon sat atop the ashes for a moment, eyeing the surrounding trees as if they were the next course. At a small shake of Draco's head, the dragon huffed and collapsed into sparks. 

The night grew dark again.

* * *

A little awed by the thin man's magic, Crowley shook himself out of his stupor and returned his attention to Hector. He shook the wizard's hand. "I appreciate the assistance, even if it was accidental. My deal is done, so I'll be on my way." 

Hector's brow rose. "That simple, huh?"

"Of course," Crowley crooned. "I may be a demon, but I do play fair. We have no business between us." 

He stepped back and nodded to his men. They poofed out of existence, returning to Hell to welcome their newest arrival. Filch would pay, personally, for all of the trouble he'd caused. He wouldn't be offered a chance to shift from torturer to torturee. Ever. His soul was royally screwed. 

Crowley watched Draco for a moment, wondering if he understood what he truly was. It wasn't Crowley's place to tell him, but keeping an eye on Draco's progress seemed ideal. Catching the wizard's eye, he bowed. "Until we meet again?" With a smirk, Crowley snapped his fingers and vanished.


	28. Chapter 28

Hermione watched Draco out of the corner of her eye as she sipped her tea. They sat in the cafeteria, the medbay having been too full for uninjured visitors. Aliyah had done a quick walkthrough, verifying the health of everyone per procedure. The nurse's furrowed brow worried Hermione. 

Aliyah motioned for the witch to join her by the windows, casting a silencing bubble around them for privacy. She gave her kinky hair a quick tug. "I'm not sure what to do."

"What do you mean? Is something wrong with Draco?"

They both glanced at the quiet man, his body stiff and unmoving in a metal chair. The nurse sighed. "I... don't know. I think so? He reads like a blowout victim, energy levels through the roof and temperature running high. That shit with Angel, though... I think he's been changed, and I have no idea how to measure 'normal' for him now."

Hermione understood from personal experience just how impossible Draco's new situation would feel, at least for a while. She'd dealt with Harry after the war, after all. She considered their options and realized what they needed. "Do you mind, or, I mean... would you consider accepting outside assistance?"

Aliyah's shrewd gaze narrowed, but she relaxed as she recognized the offer for what it was: an offer of help. "Okay. I'll write up an official request. Contact whoever you think can help with... this."

As the nurse left to return to her rounds, Hermione took off for the mailroom Hector had shown her days ago. Had it really only been days? She found the sending boxes just as she'd hoped, stacks of stationery and writing utensils tucked in draws nearby. Tugging out a sheet of paper, she began a coded and not-so-subtle demand for help. 

With the time difference, Harry would be at work soon. If he knew what was good for his continued health, he'd respond immediately. All she could do now was wait.

* * *

His fingers traced the knuckles of a limp, almost lifeless hand. Castiel knew, logically, that his Dean wasn't present in the body lying before him. He couldn't leave, though. The nurses and medical staff had fluttered around, offering food and trying to get the angel to go sleep. He didn't need sleep, or food. Not really.

He needed Dean. 

Lost in his morose thoughts, he didn't notice the two visitors directed his way. The scraping of a chair brought him out of his stupor. Colt sprawled himself quite comfortably into it, a tired smile gracing his face. "Hey, you okay?"

"I am uninjured," Cas replied. His eyes glistened as he glanced up from Dean's unconscious form. "But I am... in pain?" The uncertainty in his tone made his voice quiver. Love, one of his father's greatest gifts, hurt more than he'd ever imagined. 

"Can we be, I don't know, unmade or unawakened or something?" Colt spoke softly in the quiet of the room. 

An angry squawk interrupted. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Ruby had been hovering nearby, pretending to read a flyer on magical exhaustion and proper self-care. She shoved Colt hard enough to almost upend him from his seat. "Don't you get it, you asshole? We have to die. They have to kill us! Don't sugarcoat it in bullshit!" 

Colt grasped her wrists to hold off further attack. "Look, I know that, so calm down!" He jerked her around to face the comatose man in the bed. "He deserves his life back, Ruby. We don't... we don't belong here. We aren't alive, not really." 

Her shoulders shook, and a hand pulled free to sweep tears angrily away from her cheeks. For a few minutes, they remained in a silent stalemate. Composing herself, Ruby straightened her spine and nodded stiffly. "Alright. How do we do it?"

Castiel realized she'd been asking him. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He couldn't ask this of them. 

Colt saved the angel from himself. "I believe the wizards have a spell to instantly..." He shrugged, choosing not to end the statement. 

Ruby frowned, then moved out of Colt's reach. "I'll be back with assistance. Just let me... I'll be back." She marched up to the nurses' station, asking where to find Nora's team. Her steps faded down the hall.

* * *

Ruby strode into the mess hall with purpose, weaving through the milling crowd to find Nora. The witch had her feet kicked up on the table, her chair leaning dangerously backward as she chatted with the others. As Ruby came to a stop next to their table, she barked out her request. 

"I need you to kill me."

Silence fell over the immediate area, a still awkwardness. Nora's face reflected her confusion. "What?"

"I have to die. You've got to have an easy way to do it. Please?" She gritted her teeth as her voice cracked over the last word. 

Drawing her feet down from the table slowly, Nora slid from her seat and eyed Ruby's torn expression. Her fingers tugged at the other woman's arm, leading her out of the room and down the hall to a more private location. The empty room she'd found was someone's office, unused so late in the evening. She latched the door softly, a deep breath settling her nerves. "Ruby? What's going on?"

A sob escaped the redhead, her hands hiding her face. She leaned against the wall, her muffled voice broken with tears. "I have to die. I'm not even alive, not really, but I have to die. And I never wanted to live, but I really don't want to die. I was just getting used to this life shit. I thought I'd have to learn, that I'd have time to learn. I'm not human. I didn't want to be human. But now I can't not feel human, and I can't stop hurting and crying, and why did I meet you if I just have to die?"

Soft arms wrapped themselves around her body, offering comfort as well as further heartache. Nora murmured quietly against her hair. "Shh, it's okay. Breathe, Ruby. Just breathe." As she calmed the near-hysterical creature, her mind raced. She knew Castiel woke after Angel's death. Did the other weapons have to die to revive the Winchesters? That was horrible! 

They stood in the dark office for a while, not speaking. Ruby's tears slowed to steady breathing before she pulled away from Nora's embrace. Wiping away the evidence of her breakdown, she smiled bravely at the witch. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Hermione winced as she listened to Castiel's clinical explanation of how to awaken the Winchester men. He sounded so cold, as if the deaths of Ruby and Colt meant nothing. Then again, an angel probably lived for centuries, maybe even millennia. What were two deaths in all that history? She shook from her melancholic musings as the collected team discussed the gentlest methods for ending accidental lives, from poison to curses to a simple knife to the heart. Ghastly! Clearly, the lively debate was full of extremes. A memory struggled to the surface of her mind.

"Objects," she muttered mostly to herself, ignoring the raised voices around the table. She glanced up, knocking on the surface of the table to draw everyone's attention. "You're going about this all wrong."

A soldier, unfamiliar in the night's chaos, sputtered and turned on her. "Oh, and you Brits think you know better?" 

"Jacob!" 

"Never mind him," Hermione interrupted before the table could descend into bickering. "Nora, didn't you say that you and Aliyah tested them? That Angel, Colt, and Ruby reacted with magic as if still objects rather than people?"

The petite witch edged out of her semi-hidden corner, having previously chosen to remain out of the discussion. She chewed on her lip, and her eyes strayed to Ruby as she contemplated. "Hmm... yeah, I think you're right. But how does that matter?" 

Hermione felt guilty for having any plan at all, but she knew it was better than what they'd presented so far. "Well, we've determined that the combined magic of the exorcism and horcrux creation, as well as their own innate energies, caused this whole thing. If we remove their magical essence, we'd pull a thread and unravel the entire thing. I think."

Hector nodded slowly. "That... could work. We have spells for that. We use them to strip cursed objects and the like, especially stuff found by muggles." He grabbed a notepad and started jotting down the process. Hermione edged closer and read over his shoulder. It made sense, and it'd be less dangerous for all involved than using _Avada Kedavra_. 

Her gaze traveled to Colt. His posture was relaxed and unconcerned, even as the plan took shape to end his existence. What kind of strength was it, to face death so calmly? He leaned over to whisper to Ruby, who looked tense like a bow string. At whatever he said, she slumped and nodded. 

A circle was formed, and Colt walked to the center without hesitation. Hector took point, his wand the conduit focus for their artifact cleansing that would, essentially, result in Colt's destruction. At the solemn faces surrounding him, Colt couldn't help but make a joke to release the growing tension. "So... is this the part where you ask if I have any last words? I have to warn you, I'm not really a talker."

Hector reached out and shook Colt's hand. "Kid, if things were different..." 

The weapon only shrugged. "It is what it is. No hard feelings." His eyes sought out Castiel, sharing a look. "You'll have to keep those boys safe yourself now. Sorry."

At Colt's signal, Hector and his circle started their chant. Power swirled into their circle, the shimmering mist creating a magic fog throughout the room. At the peak of the chant, Hector spoke the trigger charm and sent a wash of fog over Colt. He disappeared from sight, and the air pulsed with magic. A plain pistol sat on the floor when the fog cleared. Hector gingerly gathered it, handing it over to be placed on the table. 

Ruby gathered herself and approached the circle for her turn. As she crossed through their line, a hand grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. She paused and looked over her shoulder to Nora. The witch spoke to Hector without looking at him. "Can I take point now, sir?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" The old man watched worriedly. He knew the two women had grown close in the short time they'd been together. Participating in her friend's destruction seemed like the worst idea imaginable. 

As if hearing his thoughts, she shook her head. "Let me do this, please. Let us say goodbye on our own terms."

He exhaled harshly but acquiesced. It was the least they could do. Stepping back into the circle, he let Nora slide into his place at the center with Ruby. 

The two women stared deeply into each other's eyes as the chanting started. Ruby ignored her fear, the racing beat of the heart she shouldn't have, the sweat on her palms. She smiled tenderly as the fog grew again. It trickled across her skin as Nora spoke her part, and a soothing numbness stole through her body. 

A knife clattered to the floor.


	29. Chapter 29

_Fire. He was on fire._

_His skin crackled and bubbled away, flames licked into his flesh to cook his muscles. Tendons shrank, the anguish searing through his exhausted body. His bones felt brittle, ash shapes ready to dissolve in a gust of wind._

_With the pain came the memories._

_The waves of a Cruciatus curse pushing away his sanity, his mad aunt Bellatrix cackling with her twisted glee. Darkness, then terror. The Dark Lord's malicious smile at his pain. Being unable to breathe properly..._

_His friend lost in a room of flames, his fingers just out of reach. If he'd stopped the madness, stopped following his father's mindless footsteps to death, the fires wouldn't have swallowed..._

_The dead body of Harry Potter. Losing all hope. If the savior was dead, they were all screwed. How could he do this to them? Harry bloody Potter, the Boy-With-Too-Much-Luck, the Boy-Who-Lived. He wasn't breathing..._

_Draco's fingers clawed at nothingness._

_Everything was flame and fear, memories flickering rapidly across his mind. The pain, the screaming, the helplessness. He roared into the void..._

...and awoke to burnt bedding. "Fuck!" Draco hopped off of his cot and willed the flames away. His magic retreated, but the damage was done. His nudity and melted cot of ashes and steel demonstrated the truth: he needed help. 

He tried to will the bed back into being, but it was useless. He'd figured out how to stop the fires after his third nightmare, but nothing else seemed to work for him. Unwilling to call for yet another replacement cot, Draco sat with his back against the cement wall of his assigned quarters and ran shaking fingers through his hair. 

He'd requested a containment cell himself, rightfully believing his mind too stressed to filter the old nightmares away safely. The Dreamless Sleep potion Aliyah gave him did nothing; his body seemed to burn it away before it could kick in. Fitful naps were interspersed with his bad dreams and the harder reality he faced. 

Draco's fingers plucked his angel blade from the nightstand, holding the thing like a lifeline. Castiel had given some convoluted explanation about how it was his now, tied to him by ancient powers, blah blah blah. The angel had seemed uncomfortable talking to Draco, his words stilted as he hedged around sharing any real information. But he'd left the blade, and that's all that really mattered. 

Holding the weapon loosely in his lap, Draco let himself drift off to sleep once again.

* * *

_Harry,_

_Remember when you said you owed me for all the times I saved you and Ron? You need to come to America. Consider this one big payout for that particular debt. Don't ask any questions. Just come here. Your particular knowledge of Death and its colder realities is needed. You'll receive an official travel pass shortly._

_Hermione_

Harry sputtered and coughed, his coffee going down the wrong way. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" He wiped up the mess he made from sloshing his cup in surprise. What the hell was happening over there? Hermione never called in favors! And they never, ever discussed what Death meant to him... 

He only made it through three more pieces of mail before coming across the pass she'd mentioned. The official looking documentation from the American Council only listed his departure time and travel protocols. Groaning at the short notice, he leapt up and pulled on his cloak before jogging down to Kingsley's office. 

"Morning, Harry!" Kingsley sat at his desk, faced already buried in the mounds of paperwork he'd received overnight. 

Harry cleared his throat and waited for the other wizard's full attention. He presented the American Council's letter immediately. "Hermione asked for assistance. Something's gone sideways, and she's gotten permission to bring me in to consult." 

Kingsley's brow rose. They both knew there was more to the story. Checking a quick _Tempus_ , he waved Harry out. "Go on, then. Try to report in, say, every other day? I'd like to avoid any incidents, especially after they arrested Hermione over Draco's disappearance. Keep yourself out of trouble."

"Easier said than done," he snarked. With an exaggerated sigh, he clipped on his travel pass and headed out to the portkey-friendly atrium of the Ministry. He wasn't sure how powerful an international portkey had to be; better safe than sorry, unless he wanted to be volunteered for ward repairs over his carelessness. 

The clock in the atrium struck the hour, and he felt the familiar tug in his center before the world swirled out of focus.

* * *

In the soft light of dawn, a well-kept crypt vibrated from within. 

Elder wood, fifteen inches, a Thestral tail-hair at the core. The Elder Wand slid through a newly formed crack in the marble of the grave. It would not be forgotten or left behind. Not for this. It flew unseen into the sky, an arrow guaranteed to locate its target. 

Even across an ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note, updated 7/19/2016) Part 2 will continue with Draco's new story, and the entrance of Harry into the mix. I'm currently on hiatus for this story, because I haven't been in the mood to write anything at all... But it's not abandoned for good.


End file.
